UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

U)S  ANGELES 

LIBRARY 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 


Designed   Especially   as  an   Introduction   to 

THE  Subject  for  Private  Students,  and 

AS  a  Text-Book  in  Normal  and 

Secondary  Schools. 


B  • 


J.  P.  GORDY,  Ph.  D. 


Professor  of  Psychology  and  Pedagogy  in  Ohio  University, 

Athens,  Ohio. 


ATHENS,  OHIO: 

Ohio  PrBLiSHiNo  Company, 

iSgi. 

i  o  R  q  1 7 

J.-    Nr     K>    «./      -*.      8 


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Copyright,  i«<^io, 

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J.   i*.   GORDV. 


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3  F 

1   3   1 

PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


LESS  than  a  year  ago,  a  number  of  teachers,  at  an 
institute  which  the  author  was  attending,  re- 
quested him  to  give  them  Correspondence  Lessons  in 
Psychology.  He  consented,  without  adequately  con- 
sidering the  amount  of  labor  it  would  involve.  For  a 
little  reflection  enabled  him  to  see  that  the  only  author 
he  could  recommend  to  them — Sully — was  much  too 
difficult  for  students  of  their  attainments.  He  soon  saw 
that  the  labor  of  explaining  so  difficult  a  book  would 
be  much  greater  than  that  of  writing  lessons  directly 
for  them  week  by  week.  He  accordingly  decided  to 
do  this,  and  this  little  book  is  the  result. 

This  account  of  its  origin  will  explain  a  number  of 
its  characteristics.  As  appears  from  its  title,  it  does 
not  undertake  to  discuss,  even  in  a  superficial  way, 
all  the  phases  of  mental  activity.  It  deals  only  with 
those  facts  and  laws  of  mind  which,  in  the  judgment 
of  the  author,  it  is  most  useful  for  teachers  to  be 
familiar  with. 

The  style  of  the  book,  as  the  reader  will  at  once 
see,  is  colored  by  the  fact  that  it  was  originally  written 
for  a  class  of  teachers,  with  most  of  whom  the  author 
was  personally  acquainted,  and  whom  he  had  in  his 
mind  as   he  wrote.     Although  the  "Les.sons"  have 

(3) 


4  PREFACE. 

been  carefully  revised,  he  has  not  thought  it  necessary 
to  carry  the  work  of  revision  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
take  from  them  that  familiar  tone  which  he  thought 
proper  to  use  in  addressing  a  class  of  pupils. 

The  book  lays  no  special  claim  to  originality. 
The  object  of  the  author  throughout  has  been  to  call 
the  attention  of  his  readers  to  important  mental  facts 
in  such  a  way  as  to  set  them  to  observing  their  own 
minds  and  the  minds  of  their  pupils,  in  order  to  see 
whether  or  not  he  was  right.  Profoundly  convinced 
as  he  is  of  the  importance  of  a  knowledge  of  Psy- 
chology to  the  teacher,  he  is  quite  as  strongly  con- 
vinced that  the  only  really  fruitful  knowledge  of  Psy- 
chology which  the  teacher  will  ever  gain  he  will  de- 
rive from  a  study  of  his  own  mind  and  the  minds  of 
the  people  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact,  and  that 
books  about  Psychology  are  useful  chiefly  as  they  give 
suggestions  in  this  direction.  Accordingly,  the  aim 
of  the  author  throughout  has  been  to  act  the  part  of  a 
guide  in  a  strange  city — tell  his  readers  where  to  look 
to  find  valuable  truths.  If  he  succeeds  in  stimulating 
them  to  become  diligent  students  of  their  own  minds 
and  the  minds  of  their  pupils,  he  will  be  more  than 
sati.sfied. 

J.  P.  CORDY. 

Athens,  Ohio,  July  T,  1890. 


CONTENTS. 


LESSON  I.  PAGE. 

The  Benefits  of  Psychology  to  the  Teacher 9 

LESSON  n. 
The  Benefits  of  Psychology  to  the  Teacher. — 

Continued 19 

LESSON  III. 
What  is  Psychology? 29 

LESSON  IV. 
The  Subject  Matter  of  Psychology 37 

LESSON  V. 
The  Method  of  Psychology 44 

LESSON  VI. 

Necessary  Truths  and  Necessary  Beliefs 55 

LESSON  VII. 
What  are  we  Conscious  of  ? 65 

LESSON  VIII. 
Attention 76 


6  CONTENTS. 

I.ESSON  IX. 
Attention. — Continued 84 

I.ESSON  X. 
Attention. — Continued 94 

LESSON  XI. 
Attention. — Continued 106 

LESSON  XII. 
Attention. — Concluded 119 

LESSON  XIII. 
Knowing,  Feeling,  and  Willing 129 

LESSON  XIV. 
Sensation 141 

LESSON  XV. 
Sensation. — Concluded 154 

LESSON  XVI. 
Association  of  Ideas 163 

LESSON  XVII. 

Perception 173 

LEvSSON  XVIII. 
Perception . —  Concluded 181 

LESSON  XIX. 
Cirltivation  of  the  Observing  Powers 192 


CONTENTS.  7 

LESSON  XX. 
Memory 203 

LESSON  XXI. 
Cultivation  of  the  Memory 2-1 1 

LESSON  XXIL 

Imagination 224 

LESSON  XXIII. 
Imagination. — Continued 233 

LESSON  XXIV. 
ConceptionI 244 

LESSON  XXV. 
Conception . — Continued 253 

LESSON  XXVI. 
Conception 260 

LESSON  XXVII. 
Conception. — Concluded 270 

LESSON  XXVIII. 
Judgment 280 

LESSON   XXiX. 
Judgment. — Concluded 288 

LESSON  XXX. 
Reasoning 297 


S  CONTENTS. 

LESSON  XXXI. 
Reasoning. — Continued 308 

LKSSON  XXXII. 
Reasoning. — Concluded 320 

LESSON  XXXIII. 
The  Primary  Intellectual  Functions 329 

LESSON  XXXIV. 
The  Primary  Intellectual  Functions. — Concluded..  339 

LESSON  XXXV. 
Development 352 

LESSON  XXXVI. 
Development 360 

LESSON  XXXVII. 
Development. — Continued - 372 

LESSON  XXXVIII. 
Development. — Concluded 380 

LESSON  XXXIX. 
The  Study  of  Children 388 


Lessons  in  Psychology. 


IvESSON    I. 

THE   BENEFITS    OF    PSYCHOLOGY   TO    THE   TEACHER. 

I  HAVE  uo  doubt  that  you  believe  that  it  is  worth 
while  for  you  to  study  a  great  many  things  which 
you  do  not  expect  to  make  of  any  practical  use.  You 
believe,  for  example,  that  it  is  a  good  thing  to  study 
algebra  and  geometry,  not  because  you  think  the 
knowledge  of  them  is  likely  to  be  useful  to  you — un- 
less you  should  be  called  upon  to  teach  them — but  be- 
cause you  think  the  study  of  them  will  develop  your 
mind. 

Probably  that  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  you  wish 
to  study  Psychology.  And  it  certainly  is  a  good 
reason  for  studying  it,  I  know  of  no  subject  better 
calculated  to  develop  the  power  of  thinking  than 
Psychology.  You  know  that  the  way  to  develop  any 
power  of  the  mind  is  to  use  it,  and  it  is  quite  impos- 
sible to  make  any  headway  in  studying  Psychology 

(9) 


lO  LESiONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

without  thinking.    That  is  the  reason  why  it  is  so 
hard.    When  any  one  makes  an  assertion  about  your 
mind — and  that  is  what  Psychology  consists  of,  as- 
sertions about  your  mind  and  the  minds  of  all  human 
beings — it  is  often,  indeed  generally,  impossible  to 
realize  what  it  means  without  thinking.     Thus,  sup- 
pose I  say  that  a  mental  fact  is  known  directly  to 
but  one  person,  and  that  one  the  person  experiencing 
it.     In  order  to  realize  what  that  means,  you  have 
to  look  into  your  own   mind    for  an  example  of  a 
mental  fact.    You   recall   the  oft-repeated  assertion, 
nobody  knows  what  one  thinks  but  himself,  and  you 
realize  that  a  thought  is  a  mental  fact  known  to  but 
one  person  directly,   and   that  one  the   person   ex- 
periencing it.     But  in  order  to  know  what  other  facts 
are  mental  facts,  you  must  think  long  and  carefully, 
until  you  have  made  up  your  mind  just  what  facts  are 
known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and  that  one  the 
person  experiencing  them. 

And  even  when  you  can  understand  an  assertion 
that  any  one  makes  about  your  mind  without  looking 
into  your  own  mind,  it  is  generally  necessary  for  you 
to  do  so  before  you  can  decide  intelligently  whether 
or  not  it  is  true.  Suppose,  for  example,  I  say  that, 
no  matter  how  interesting  you  make  your  recitations, 


LKSSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  II 

you  can  not  get  the  continuous  attention  of  your 
pupils  without  asking  questions,  or  without  giving 
them  some  other  motive  for  attending  besides  in- 
terest. That  statement  you  can  understand  without 
special  effort.  But  in  order  to  determine  whether  or 
not  it  is  true,  you  must  look  into  your  own  mind.  You 
must  ask  yourself  whether  any  one  can  keep  your  at- 
tention for  a  half  or  three-quarters  of  an  hour  simply 
by  being  interesting.  If  you  set  about  answering  it  in 
the  right  way,  you  will  think  until  3^ou  recall  some 
speaker  who  never  asked  you  questions,  or  did  any- 
thing, except  try  to  interest  you,  to  keep  your  atten- 
tion, but  who  was  interesting  ;  then  I  am  sure  you  will 
remember  that,  when  he  was  speaking,  your  mind 
wandered  much  more  than  it  would  have  done  if  you 
had  known  that,  when  he  had  finished,  he  would 
question  you  about  what  he  was  saying.  You  will 
remember  that  you  often  allowed  your  mind  to  dwell 
on  interesting  points  that  he  raised,  to  the  exclusion 
of  what  he  said  directly  after. 

For  these  two  reasons — (i)  because  you  can  not 
understand  most  of  the  assertions  in  Psychology  with- 
out thinking  ;  and  (2)  because,  even  when  j-ou  under- 
stand them,  you  can  not  tell  whether  or  not  they  are 
true  without  thinking — I  know  of  no  subject  better 


12  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

calculated  to  make  a  pupil  think,  and  therefore  better 
fitted  to  develop  the  power  of  thinking,  than  Psy- 
chology. 

But,  apart  from  this,  I  imagine  that  you  wish  to 
study  Psychology  for  quite  practical  reasons.  As  a 
man  who  intends  to  be  a  surveyor  studies  trigonom- 
etry, not  merely  becau.se  it  will  develop  his  mind,  but 
because  of  the  use  it  will  be  to  him,  so  you  study 
Psychology  because  you  think  the  knowledge  of  it 
will  make  you  a  better  teacher. 

How  will  it  help  you  in  this  direction?  Before 
you  can  an.swer  this  question,  you  must  answer  an- 
other. What  is  teaching?  People  used  to  intimate 
what  they  thought  of  this  by  saying  that  a  teacher 
"keeps  school."  But  "  keeping  school  "  is  not  teach- 
ing. Nor  is  it  to  teach  to  hear  recitations.  To  teach 
is  to  deal  with  mind — is  to  get  it  to  do  something 
which  it  would  not  have  done  apart  from  the  teacher, 
in  order  to  get  it  to  become  something  which  it  would 
not  have  become  apart  from  him.  I  repeat — and  I 
ask  you  to  notice  this  statement  carefully — to  teach 
is  to  get  the  mind  to  do  something,  or  rather  many 
things,  which  it  would  not  have  done  apart  from  the 
teacher,  in  order  to  get  it  to  become  what  it  would 
not  have  become  apart  from  him. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  13 

In  order  to  do  this  intelligently,  you  plainly  need  to 
have  as  clear  an  idea  as  possible  of  what  you  wish 
your  pupils  to  become.  You  take  charge  of  a  school 
and  have  a  lot  of  boys  and  girls  whom  you  want 
to  make  different  from  what  they  are.  If  they  were 
everything  that  you  wish  them  to  become,  you  would 
not  undertake  to  teach  them.  What  is  it  that  you 
wish  them  to  become  ?  In  what  respect  do  you  wish 
them  to  change  as  the  result  of  your  teaching?  That 
question,  the  study  of  Psychology  will  help  you  to 
answer;  and  the  more  you  know  about  P.S5^chology, 
the  more  clearly  and  fully  and  definitely  you  can 
answer  it. 

Quite  likely  you  think  you  can  answer  it  now. 
You  say  you  wish  your  pupils  to  have  better  de- 
veloped minds  at  the  end  of  each  day  than  they 
had  at  the  beginning.  But  better  developed  in  what 
direction?  The  North  American  Indians,  for  example, 
had  remarkable  powers  of  observation.  They  could 
track  an  enemy  through  a  forest  where  you  could 
see  no  trace  of  a  human  being.  Will  you  be  con- 
tent to  have  your  pupils  acquire  powers  similar  to 
those  possessed  by  the  North  American  Indians?  Is 
this  what  you  wish  them  to  become?  Again,  the  Chi- 
nese have  remarkable  memories.     I  suppose  there  are 


14  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

plenty  of  educated  Chiuamen  who  remember  almost 
word  for  word  the  nine  classics  compiled  and  edited 
by  Confucius.  Do  you  want  your  pupils  to  have 
minds  like  the  Chinese? 

I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  imply  that  you  should 
not  aim  to  cultivate  the  observing  powers  of  your 
pupils  as  well  as  their  memories.  But  the  North 
American  Indians  developed  their  powers  of  obser- 
vation at  the  expense  of  the  higher  powers  of  their 
minds,  and  the  Chinese  their  mechanical  memory  in 
the  same  costly  way.  And  yet  they  may  be  said  to 
aim  at  development.  Hence,  you  see,  when  one  says 
that  the  object  of  education  is  development,  he  has 
not  expressed  a  very  definite  idea.  The  question  is. 
What  kind  of  development?  and  that  question  Psy- 
chology will  help  j-ou  answer. 

vSo  you  .see,  that  when  3'ou  say  you  want  to  help 
your  pupils  develop  their  minds,  you  have  by  no 
means  proved  that  you  know  precisely  what,  as  an 
intelligent  teacher,  you  ought  to  aim  at.  And  it 
seems  to  me  that,  unless  you  know  what  to  aim  at,  you 
can  not  hope  to  have  success.  Do  you  think  an 
architect  could  build  a  beautiful  house  if  he  began  to 
build  it  and  if  he  worked  at  it  from  day  to  day  without 
having  in  his  mind,  .so  to  speak,  the  house  he  was 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  15 

trying  to  build?  Well,  if  a  carpenter  must  have  a 
picture  in  his  mind  of  the  kind  of  house  he  wants 
to  build  in  order  to  build  it,  how  can  you  hope  to 
succeed  in  moulding  and  shaping  and  forming  the 
minds  of  your  pupils  in  an  intelligent  way,  unless  you 
have  the  clearest  ideas  of  what  you  wish  them  to 
become  ? 

You  will  not,  I  hope,  understand  me  to  say  that 
you  should  have  the  same  ideal  for  all  of  your  pupils, 
and  treat  their  minds  in  precisely  the  same  way. 
Some  of  your  pupils  will,  in  the  future,  be  artists,  some 
mechanics,  some  men  of  business,  and  the  ideal  educa- 
tion for  them,  therefore,  differs  in  important  respects. 
But  just  as  a  carpenter,  though  he  builds  many  different 
kinds  of  houses,  can  not  build  any  successfully  wirth- 
out  having  in  his  mind  a  definite  idea  of  what  he  wishes 
to  do,  so  a  teacher  can  not  do  what  he  ought  towards 
forming  the  different  types  of  mind  which  it  is  his 
business  to  form,  unless  his  knowledge  of  mind  ena- 
bles him  to  realize  clearly  the  end  towards  which  he 
desires  to  work.  The  faculties  of  all  his  pupils  do 
indeed  require,  to  a  considerable  extent,  the  same 
kind  of  training.  All  of  them  should  be  good  ob- 
servers ;  all  of  them  should  reason  logically ;  all  of 
them  should  have  good  memories  and  vivid  imagi- 


1 6  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

nations.  What  I  am  saying  is,  that  whatever  the  true 
end  of  education  for  each,  the  more  clearly  the  teacher 
conceives  it,  the  better  fitted  he  is  to  reach  it;  and  this 
clearness  of  conception  the  study  of  Psychology  will 
help  to  give  him. 

But  at  any  rate,  perhaps  you  think  you  are  clear 
regarding  one  respect  in  which  you  wish  your  pupils  to 
change;  you  wivsh  them  to  become  less  ignorant — you 
wish  them  to  know  more.  But  to  know  more  of 
what  ?  You  have  not  got  very  far  when  you  say  that 
you  wish  to  help  your  pupils  to  acquire  knowledge, 
unless  you  have  made  up  your  mind  what  knowledge 
is  worth  acquiring.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  history  in 
the  text-books  which  is  not  worth  learning,  and  a 
good  deal  out  of  them  which  is  in  the  highest  degree 
important,  and  the  same  is  true  of  the  other  subjects 
you  teach.  How  are  you  to  make  up  your  mind  what 
knowledge  is  worth  acquiring  ?  The  study  of  Psychol- 
ogy will  help  you  do  that.  It  will  help  you  see  the 
effect  which  the  acquiring  of  this  or  that  piece  of 
knowledge  will  have  on  the  mind,  and  in  this  way 
enable  you  to  estimate  its  worth. 

And  here  again  you  see  that  it  is  quite  impossible 
for  you  to  succeed  in  teaching  unless  in  some  way 
you  are  able  to  decide  intelligently  what  you  ought  to 


I^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOI,OGY.  17 

get  your  pupils  to  learn.  Until  you  are  able  to  decide 
that,  you  can,  in  the  first  place,  only  aim  to  get  them  to 
learn  everything  in  the  text-book.  And  this  is  bad 
for  two  reasons:  in  the  first  place,  text-books  are 
sometimes  written  by  men  who  know  so  little  of  the 
subject  that  they  can  not  tell  what  is  important  and 
what  is  not  important;  and  in  the  second  place, 
intelligent  men  put  many  things  in  text-books  not 
that  students  may  learn  them,  but  that  they  may  be 
able  to  refer  to  them  if  they  have  occasion  to  use 
them.  No  one  but  a  fool  would  commit  to  memory  a 
railroad  guide.  And  yet  railroad  guides  are  very  use- 
ful; but  when  any  one  has  occasion  for  them,  he 
goes  to  them.  He  remembers  what  he  finds  there 
just  as  long  as  he  wants  it,  and  then  does  not  trouble 
his  head  with  it  any  longer.  Now,  intelligent  men 
put  many  such  facts  in  the  books  they  write — facts 
which  they  do  not  expect  any  one  to  learn,  but  to 
which  they  think  persons  may  sometimes  have  occa- 
sion to  refer.  For  these  two  reasons,  it  is  very  unfor- 
tunate for  a  teacher  to  have  to  rely  entirely  upon  his 
text-books  in  deciding  what  to  teach. 

Note  carefully  that,  in  this  lesson,  I  have  been 
trying  to  show  that  a  study  of  Psychology  will  help 
you  see  what  you  ought  to  aim  at.     It  will  help  you 
2 


1 8  LKSSONS   IN    PSYCH01<00Y. 

see  the  kind  of  development  you  ought  to  try  to  help 
them  get,  and  the  kind  of  knowledge  you  ought  to  try 
to  impart. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  are  the  two  reasons  for  studying  Psychology? 

2.  How  is  any  power  of  the  mind  developed  ? 

3.  What  are  the  two  reasons  which  make  the  study  of 
Psychology  so  useful  in  developing  the  power  to  think? 

4.  What  is  teaching? 

5.  Give  two  illustrations  to  show  that  when  you  say  you 
wish  your  pupils  to  have  better  developed  minds,  your  state- 
ment lacks  clearness. 

6.  Show  that  you  can  not  succeed  as  a  teacher  unless  you 
know  what  to  aim  at. 

7.  Show  that  when  you  say  you  wish  to  make  your 
pupils  less  ignorant,  your  statement  lacks  clearness. 

8.  How  will  the  study  of  Psychology  help  you  in  this 
direction  ? 

9.  Why  should  not  a  teacher  limit  himself  to  teaching 
what  is  in  the  text-books  ? 

10.  What  is  the  central  thought  which  this^  lesson  aims 
to  bring  out? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS.    . 

1.  Which  do  you  regard  as  the  more  important  service 
rendered  by  the  study  of  Psychology  to  the  teacher — increas- 
ing his  power  of  thought,  or  his  knowledge  of  the  conditions 
under  which  the  mind  acts  ? 

2.  One  writer  speaks  of  a  certain  kind  of  memory  as  the 
"  index  "  memory,  and  another  of  another  kind  as  the  "me- 
chanical "  memory.  Can  you  get  from  this  lesson  any  idea  of 
what  they  are  ? 


I,»B60NS   I.N   PSYCHOI,OGY.  1 9 

LESSON   II. 
THE    BENEFITS   OF    PSYCHOLOGY    TO   THE    TEACHER. 

'  I  ^O  succeed  well  in  any  difficult  undertaking,  three 
■^  things  are  necessary :  (i)  one  must  see  clearly 
the  thing  to  be  done ;  (2)  he  must  have  a  clear  idea  of 
the  best  means  of  doing  it;  and  (3)  he  must  have 
a  strong  motive  for  doing  it  well.  He  in  whom  these 
conditions  meet  most  perfectly — who  sees  most  clearly 
the  thing  to  be  done,  who  has  the  clearest  perception 
of  the  best  means  of  doing  it,  who  has  the  strongest 
motive  for  making  strenuous  efforts  to  do  it — is  the 
likeliest  person  to  succeed  in  any  difficult  undertaking. 
I  do  not  believe  the  study  of  Psychologj^  can  be 
urged  on  the  ground  that  it  is  likely  to  do  much 
toward  making  the  teacher  interested  in  his  work, 
and  more  willing,  therefore,  to  work  hard  in  order 
to  do  it  well.  I  think,  indeed,  that  it  is  not  without 
effect  in  that  direction.  The  work  of  teachers  who 
make  no  study  of  mind  is  likely  to  be  mechanical, 
while  the  work  of  teachers  who  base  their  efforts  on  a 
knowledge  of  mind  is  rational.  And  mechanical 
work    is    uninteresting,    unattractive — fit    only     for 


20  LaSSONS  IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

machines.  Anything,  therefore,  which  tends  to  make 
a  teacher's  work  rational  certainly  tends  to  make  it 
interesting.  I  think  that  this  was  what  Fitch  meant 
when  he  called  teaching  the  noblest  of  arts  and  the 
sorriest  of  trades.  Practiced  mechanically,  it  is  in- 
deed a  trade,  and  a  sorry  one  at  that;  practiced 
rationally — practiced  by  one  who  realizes  that  he  is 
dealing  with  mind,  and  who  uses  this  method  or  that, 
not  because  some  one  else  has  used  it,  but  because  his 
knowledge  of  mind  leads  him  to  believe  that  it  is  the 
best — it  is  the  noblest  of  arts. 

But  while  I  believe  that  the  study  of  Psychology  is 
of  some  benefit  to  the  teacher  in  that  it  tends  to  give 
him  more  interest  in  his  work,  I  do  not  urge  it  on  this 
ground.  It  is  for  the  other  two  reasons,  (i)  because 
of  the  clearness  which  it  is  fitted  to  give  to  the  aim  of 
the  intelligent  teacher,  and  (2)  because  of  the  light  it 
throws  on  the  best  methods  of  realizing  that  aim,  that 
it  seems  to  me  no  teacher  who  is  ambitious  to  succeed 
should  neglect  to  study  it  as  thoroughly  and  as  faith- 
fully as  possible. 

In  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  show  what  the  study  of 
Psychology  can  do  for  you  in  the  first  direction.  I 
tried  to  show  that  when  you  are  able  to  say  that  your 
aim  is  to  bring  about  the  development  of  your  pupils, 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  21 

you  have  not  got  very  far  unless  you  have  made 
up  your  mind  as  to  the  value,  so  to  speak,  of  the 
various  faculties  of  the  mind — that  unless  you  know 
the  worth  of  the  observing  powers,  and  of  the  various 
kinds  of  memory,  imagination,  and  reasoning,  you  can 
not  proceed  intelligently  in  training  them.  And  in 
like  manner,  unless  you  have  made  up  your  mind  as 
to  "what  knowledge  is  of  most  worth,"  I  tried  to 
show  that  it  is  of  little  use  to  be  able  to  say  that 
you  wish  to  induce  your  pupils  to  acquire  knowl- 
edge. I  tried  further  to  show  that  Psychology,  by 
helping  you  to  see  the  relation  of  the  various  powers 
of  the  mind  to  each  other,  will  help  you  to  see  the 
kind  of  development  you  ought  to  aim  at;  and  also 
that,  by  helping  you  to  see  the  eflfect  of  the  various 
kinds  of  knowledge  upon  the  mind,  it  will  help  you 
to  decide  "what  knowledge  is  of  most  worth." 

But  not  only  will  the  study  of  Psychology  tend  to 
give  clearness  and  definiteness  to  your  aim,  it  will 
tend  quite  as  strongly  to  show  what  you  must  do  to 
realize  that  aim. 

In  dealing  with  mind  we  must  use  the  same  kind 
of  methods  which  we  use  when  we  deal  with  objects 
in  the  material  world.  What  we  accomplish  in  the 
material   world   we    accomplish    by    putting   objects 


22  I,ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

where  they  will  be  subject  to  new  influences,  so  that 
the  forces  of  nature  may  do  the  work  we  wish  to  have 
done.  Mortar  in  one  place  and  bricks  in  another  do 
nothing  to  make  the  walls  of  a  house,  but  place  the 
bricks  on  a  strong  foundation,  and  put  the  mortar 
between  them,  and  you  have  a  strong  wall.  All  you 
have  done,  you  will  note,  is  to  move  the  bricks  and 
mortar  so  as  to  put  them  in  new  positions  and  make 
them  subject  to  new  influences,  so  that  the  forces  of 
nature  could  do  the  desired  work.  Heat  water  to  the 
boiling  point,  and  it  will  change  into  steam;  and  if  you. 
leave  it  where  it  can  escape,  nothing  will  come  of  it. 
But  move  the  water  into  a  confined  place,  so  that  the 
steam  can  not  escape,  and  then  you  can  make  it  drive 
immense  palaces  across  the  sea,  or  pull  huge  trains 
across  the  continent.  Every  invention  which  has 
ever  been  made  is  simply  a  way  of  moving  things  into 
new  positions  where  they  are  subject  to  new  influences, 
so  that  the  forces  of  nature  may  do  the  desired  work. 
All  the  force  that  is  employed  in  nature  exists  in  nature. 
All  that  man  accomplishes  he  accomplishes  by  making 
the  forces  of  nature  work  under  different  circttmstances, 
a7id  by  turning  them  into  different  channels  from  those 
in  which  they  would  have  worked  apart  from  him. 
It  is  by  making  nature  our  servant  that  we  have 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  23 

made  such  wonderful  progress  in  material  civilization 
in  the  nineteenth  century.  And  how  is  it  that  we 
have  been  able  to  make  nature  work  for  us  in  such 
wonderful  ways?  Simply  by  knowing  the  laws  of 
nature.  Knowing  the  laws  of  nature,  we  have  been 
able,  so  to  speak,  to  foresee  what  she  would  do  under 
certain  circumstances,  and  the  result  is  the  steam- 
engine,  the  telegraph,  the  telephone,  the  phonograph, 
and  all  the  other  inventions  which  minister  to  our 
well-being. 

In  dealing  with  mind  we  must  work  in  the  same 
way.  Precisely  as  everything  which  happens  in 
nature  is  due  to  the  laws  of  nature,  so  everything 
which  happens  in  mind  is  due  to  the  laws  of  mind. 
Precisely  as  our  power  in  nature  depends  upon  the 
skill  with  which  we  get  her  to  work  for  us,  so  our 
power  in  dealing  with  mind  depends  upon  our  ability 
to  get  it  so  to  act  that  the  results  we  desire  will  follow. 
Precisely  as  success  in  dealing  with  nature  consists 
in  supplying  the  conditions  which  make  it  possible 
for  nature  to  do  the  desired  work,  so  success  in  deal- 
ing with  the  mind  consists  in  supplying  the  conditions 
which  make  it  possible  for  the  mind  to  do  the  work 
we  want  it  to  do.  And  precisely  as  the  better  we 
know  the  laws  of  nature — in  other  words,  the  better 


24  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI^OGY. 

we  know  the  conditions  under  which  nature  will 
produce  this  or  that  result,  the  better  we  can  supply 
them — so  the  better  we  know  the  laws  of  the  mind; 
the  better,  in  other  words,  we  know  the  conditions 
under  which  the  mind  will  do  this  or  that,  the  better 
we  can  supply  them.  The  aim  of  the  teacher  being  a 
certain  kind  of  development,  and  the  communication 
of  a  certain  kind  of  knowledge,  evidently  the  more  he 
knows  of  the  conditions  under  which  the  mind  de- 
velops, and  the  conditions  under  which  it  acquires 
knowledge,  the  better  he  can  supply  them. 

"But  is  there  no  difference,"  you  may  ask, 
"between  a  natural  agent  and  the  human  mind  in  this 
regard  ?  May  we  say  of  the  human  mind,  as  we  may 
of  a  natural  agent,  that  it  will  always  do  all  the  work 
it  can  under  the  given  conditions?"  There  is  an 
important  difference,  but  it  makes  for  rather  than 
against  the  skillful  teacher.  A  natural  agent  can  not 
be  flattered,  bribed,  or  cajoled ;  it  takes  no  account  of 
intentions  or  motives.  In  dealing  with  a  natural 
agent,  the  one  single,  simple,  all-determining  question 
is,  Are  the  conditions  fulfilled?  If  they  are  fulfilled, 
the  effect  will  follow;  if  they  are  not  fulfilled,  the 
effect  will  not  follow.  But  the  case  is  different  with 
the  human  mind.     When  we  have  put  the  mind  under 


I^KSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  2$ 

the  right  influences,  it  has  a  natural  tendetuy  to  the 
kind  of  activity  we  wish  to  occasion ;  but  this 
tendency  may  be  increased  or  diminished  by  purely 
personal  relations.  A  teacher,  for  example,  who 
adapts  the  subject  of  instruction  to  the  mental  condi- 
tion of  his  pupil  creates  a  tendency  in  the  mind  of 
his  pupil  to  follow  his  instruction  with  interest.  But 
if  by  impatience,  ill-humor,  or  sarcastic  remarks  the 
teacher  has  excited  the  antagonism  of  the  pupil,  the 
pupil  resists  the  tendency ;  he  is  unwilling  to  do  what 
he  knows  his  teacher  desires.  If,  on  the  other  hand, 
the  teacher  by  patience  and  industry  and  kindness 
has  gained  the  regard  of  his  pupil,  the  pupil  exerts 
himself  to  attend  to  the  subject.  In  this  way  it 
happens  that  personal  qualities  may  atone,  to  some 
extent,  for  lack  of  skill  on  the  part  of  the  teacher. 

Do  you  ask  if  a  corresponding  increase  in  the 
teacher's  knowledge  of  mind,  and  a  corresponding 
increase  in  his  skill  in  basing  his  work  on  that  knowl- 
edge would  enable  him  to  work  such  miracles  in 
the  minds  of  his  pupils  as  inventors  have  worked 
in  nature  through  their  knowledge  of  the  laws  of 
nature?  I  can  not,  of  course,  answer  such  a  question. 
No  one  can.  But  in  the  School  of  the  far-off  Future 
— when  no  teacher  will  be  allowed  to  enter  a  school- 


a6  LKSSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

room  who  has  not  made  a  thorough  study  of 
Psychology,  and  who  has  not  proved  to  the  entire 
satisfaction  of  competent  judges  his  ability  to  apply 
what  he  has  learned — in  that  school  there  will  be  no 
dull,  listless,  inattentive  pupils.  There  will  be  no 
boys  who  leave  school  because  they  do  not  like  it. 
There  will  be  no  pupils  who  hate  books.  As  a  child 
learns  not  only  rapidly  but  with  intense  pleasure  from 
the  time  of  his  birth  to  the  time  he  starts  to  school 
simply  because  the  activities  in  which  he  spontaneously 
engages  are  fitted  to  his  state  of  development,  so  he  will 
continue  to  learn  rapidly  arid  with  intense  pleasure  after 
he  starts  to  school  if  the  work  he  is  set  to  doing  is 
adapted  to  his  state  of  development.  Do  you  know 
who  Comenius  was  ?  It  was  he  who  said  if  our 
pupils  do  not  learn  it  is  our  fault.  And  he  was 
undoubtedly  right.  If  we  supplied  the  proper  condi- 
tions, our  pupils  would  as  certainly  learn  as  a  train 
will  move  when  the  engineer  turns  on  the  steam.  Do 
you  know  who  Pestalozzi  was  ?  It  was  he  who  said 
that  if  pupils  are  inattentive  the  teacher  should  first 
look  to  himself  for  the  reason.  And  he  also  was 
undoubtedly  right.  As  certainly  as  a  blade  of  corn 
will  grow  and  mature  if  it  is  treated  right — if  the 
proper    conditions    are    supplied — so    certainly  will 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOW)GY.  27 

our  pupils  attend,  and  think  as  the  result  of  attend- 
ing, and  develop  as  the  result  of  thinking,  if  we 
supply  the  proper  conditions. 

I  say  "if  we  supply  the  proper  conditions."  It  is 
but  truth  to  say  that  that  sometimes  is  beyond  our 
power  under  the  circumstances  under  which  we  are 
obliged  to  work.  Some  pupils  have  so  little  capacity 
for  a  subject  that  to  supply  the  proper  conditions 
would  require  an  amount  of  attention  which  the 
teacher  can  not  possibly  give  them.  It  is  doubtful 
also  if  there  are  not  cases  in  which  there  is  so  little 
capacity  for  a  subject  as  to  make  it  a  waste  of  time  for 
the  pupil  to  attempt  to  study  it.  A  case  came  under 
my  own  observation  of  a  boy  who  would  spend  Jive 
hours  on  a  spelling  lesson,  and  still  miss  nine  words 
out  of  ten.  I  am  strongly  inclined  to  the  opinion  that 
spelling  was  an  accomplishment  which  he  could  not 
afford  to  acquire.     (See  Appendix  A.) 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  three  things  are  essential  to  success  in  a 
difficult  undertaking? 

2.  What  can  the  study  of  Psychology  do  to  make  a 
teacher  interested  in  his  work  ? 

3.  What  did  Fitch  say  about  teaching,  and  what  did 
be  mean  by  it? 


28  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

4.  How  will  the  study  of  Psychology  help  a  teacher 
to  see  at  what  he  should  aim  ? 

5.  How  do  men  accomplish  anything  in  nature? 

6.  Illustrate  your  statement. 

7.  Show  that  the  same  thing  is  true  in  our  dealings 
with  mind. 

8.  Do  you  believe  that  teachers  could  accomplish  as 
wonderful  results  in  dealing  with  the  minds  of  their 
pupils  as  inventors  have  accomplished  in  dealing  with  nature 
if  they  knew  as  much  about  mind  ? 

9.  Why  do  so  many  pupils  dislike  the  work  of  school? 

10.  What  did  Comenius  say  was  the  reason  our  pupils 
do  not  learn  ? 

11.  Is  there  anything  in  our  system  of  classification 
which  increases  the  difficulty  of  adapting  our  work  to 
individual  pupils  so  as  to  make  it  pleasant  to  them  ? 

12.  What  can  be  done  to  obviate  this  ? 


SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Who  is  Fitch  ? 

2.  What  book  on  education  has  he  written  ? 

3.  Who  was  Comenius  ?    When  did  he  live  ? 

4.  Who  was  Pestalozzi,  and  when  was  he  born  ? 

5.  What  reform  did  he  work  in  education? 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  29 

I^ESSON   III. 
WHAT   IS   PSYCHOLOGY? 

IN  the  last  two  lessons  I  tried  to  show  that  the 
study  of  Psychology  will  help  you  to  see  the 
goal  that  you  should  try  to  reach,  and  what  course 
you  should  take  in  order  to  reach  it.  But  while  we 
have  been  talking  about  how  Psychology  will  help 
you  in  teaching,  the  question,  What  is  Psychology? 
has  been  left  unanswered.  That  question  I  shall  try 
to  answer  in  this  lesson. 

The  answer  usually  given  is  that  Psychology  is 
the  science  of  the  mind  or  soul.  But  what  is  the 
soul  ?  People  who  have  not  thought  carefully  about 
it  would  probably  say  that,  whatever  it  is,  it  certainly 
is  not  the  mind.  Animals,  they  would  say,  plainly 
have  minds,  but  no  one  believes  that  they  have  souls. 
I  think  it  may  serve  to  give  clearness  to  our  ideas  to 
consider  the  question  whether  or  not  animals  have 
souls.  And  without  doubt  in  the  confused  sense  in 
which  the  word  is  used  in  popular  language  the  true 
answer  is  that  they  have.  If  you  suppose  that 
animals  have  no  souls,  let  me  ask  you  if  you  have  one. 


30  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

You  will  undoubtedly  say  that  you  have.  Suppose  I 
ask  you  whether  you  are  always  dreaming  when  you 
are  asleep  ?  You  will  probably  answer  that  you  are 
not.  And  when  you  say  that  you  are  not  dreaming, 
what  do  you  mean  ? 

"  I  mean,"  I  imagine  you  saying,  "  that  there  are 
no  thoughts  or  feelings  in  my  mind." 

"  And  when  there  are  no  thoughts  and  feelings  in 
your  mind,  does  your  soul  continue  to  exist?  " 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"You  say  that  you  do  not  think  you  are  always 
dreaming  when  you  are  asleep;  and  when  you  say 
that  you  are  not  dreaming,  you  say  that  you  mean  that 
you  have  no  thoughts  or  feelings  in  your  mind.  So 
far  as  thoughts  and  feelings  go,  I  understand  you 
to  say  that  you  are  exactly  like  a  dead  man.  A  dead 
man  has  no  thoughts  and  feelings,  neither  have  you 
when  you  are  not  dreaming.  Now,  when  you  have  no 
thoughts  and  feelings  in  your  mind,  does  your  soul 
continue  to  exist?  " 

"  I  certainly  believe  it  does,  as  I  have  no  reason  to 
believe  that  it  ceases  to  exist  when  I  fall  asleep  and 
begins  to  exist  as  soon  as  I  awake,  as  must  be  the 
case  if  it  ceases  to  exist  when  I  have  no  thoughts  and 
feelings." 


LBISONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  3 1 

"  Then  you  do  not  mean  by  soul  the  thoughts  and 
feelings  of  which  you  are  conscious,  or  a  part  of  those 
thoughts  and  feelings? " 

"  Again  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  You  say  that  your  soul  does  not  cease  to  exist 
when  you  have  no  thoughts  or  feelings;  now,  if 
it  does  not,  your  soul  can  not  be  your  thoughts 
and  feelings,  can  it? " 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  if  it  were,  when  you  have  no  thoughts 
and  feelings  you  would  have  no  soul,  would  you? " 

"  I  see  that  I  would  not." 

"  And  it  can  not  be  a  part  of  your  thoughts  and 
feelings,  can  it?  " 

"  No,  for  if  it  were  any  part  of  them  when  I 
had  none  of  any  kind,  I  would  have  no  soul." 

"  You  mean  by  soul,  then,  not  thoughts  and  feel- 
ings, but  the  thing  that  has  thoughts  and  feelings  ?  " 

"  Again  I  am  obliged  to  say  that  I  do  not  under- 
stand you." 

"  A  German  professor  is  said  to  have  begun  a 
first  lesson  on  Psychology  in  this  way:  'Students, 
think  about  the  wall.'  After  a  moment's  pause, 
'Now  think  about  the  thing  that  thinks  about  the 
wall.     The  thing  that  thinks  about  the  wall  is  what 


32  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  to  be  the  subject  of  your  study.'  That  is  what  you 
mean  by  soul,  is  it  not — the  thing  which  thinks  and 
feels,  the  thing  which  has  thoughts  and  feelings?  " 

"  It  is." 

"And  what  do  you  mean  by  mind?" 

"  I  mean  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  or  that  which 
has  thoughts  and  feelings." 

"But  things  which  are  identical  with  the  same 
thing  are  identical  with  each  other,  are  they  not?  " 

"They  are." 

"  And  if  the  soul  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels, 
and  the  mind  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels,  they  must 
be  the  same,  must  they  not  ?  " 

"  I  see  that  they  must." 

"  If  then  you  say  that  dogs,  for  instance,  have 
minds,  can  you  refuse  to  admit  that  they  have  souls?" 

"  I  am  obliged  to  confess  that  I  can  not." 

In  this  imaginary  dialogue  you  may  say  that  in  the 
nature  of  the  case  I  can  prove  what  I  wish  to  prove, 
since  I  can  put  any  words  in  your  mouth  I  please. 
But  if  you  will  carefully  consider  it,  you  will  see  that 
you  are  obliged  to  say  that  the  soul  is  one  of  three 
things :  It  is  either  all  of  our  thoughts  and  feelings, 
or  a  part  of  them,  or  the  thing  which  has  thoughts 
and  feelings — the  thing  which  thinks  and   feels  and 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  33 

wills.  If  you  say  that  the  soul  is  all  or  a  part  of  our 
thoughts  and  feelings — mental  facts,  in  a  word — then, 
instead  of  saying  that  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the 
soul,  it  would  be  much  plainer  to  say  that  Psychology 
is  the  science  of  mental  facts.  But  if  you  say  that  the 
soul  is  that  which  thinks  and  feels  and  wills,  then,  as 
we  have  seen,  there  is  no  difference  between  soul  and 
mind,  and  we  are  left  with  the  definition,  Psychology 
is  the  science  of  the  mind. 

But  what  do  you  mean  by  mind  ?  What  we  have 
seen  in  the  case  of  the  soul — that  it  consists  of  thoughts, 
feelings,  and  acts  of  the  will,  or  that  which  thinks, 
feels,  and  wills — is  plainly  true  of  the  mind  also.  It 
must  either  be  that  which  thinks,  feels,  and  wills,  or  it 
must  be  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  acts  of  will  of 
which  we  are  conscious — mental  facts,  in  one  word. 
But  what  do  we  know  about  that  which  thinks,  feels, 
and  wills,  and  what  can  we  find  out  about  it?  Where  is 
it  ?  You  will  probably  say  in  the  brain.  But  if  you 
are  speaking  literally,  if  you  say  that  it  is  in  the  brain, 
as  a  pencil  is  in  the  pocket,  then  you  must  mean  that 
it  takes  up  room,  that  it  occupies  space,  and  that 
would  make  it  very  much  like  a  material  thing.  In 
truth,  the  more  carefully  you  consider  it,  the  more 
plainly  you  will  see  what  thinking  men  have  known 

3 


34  IvJjSSONS   IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

for  a  long  time— that  we  do  not  know  and  can  i^jt 
learn  anything  about  the  thing  which  thinks  and 
feels  and  wills.  It  is  beyond  the  range  of  human 
knowledge.  The  books  which  define  Psychology  as 
the  science  of  the  mind  have  not  a  word  to  say  about 
that  which  thinks  and  feels  and  wills.  They  are 
entirely  taken  up  with  these  thoughts  and  feelings 
and  acts  of  the  will — mental  facts,  in  a  word — trying  to 
tell  us  what  they  are,  and  arrange  them  in  classes,  and 
tell  us  the  circumstances  or  conditions  under  which 
they  exist. 

It  seems  to  me,  therefore,  that  it  would  be  better 
to  define  Psychology  as  the  scietice  of  the  experiences, 
pheno7ne7ia,  or  fads  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self— of  mental 
fads,  in  a  word. 

But  what  is  a  mental  fact?  I^et  us  say,  to  start  with, 
that  it  is  a  fact  known  directly  to  but  one  person,  and 
that  the  person  experiencing  it.  If  you  are  standing 
on  the  street  with  a  half  dozen  friends,  you  can  all  see 
the  houses,  and  men  and  women  and  horses.  You 
can  all  hear  the  tramping  of  feet  and  the  clatter  of 
the  vehicles  that  pass  along  the  street.  These  facts 
are  open  to  the  observation  of  all  of  you  alike.  But 
there  is  a  class  of  facts  known  directly  to  but  one  of 
you — what  you  think  and  feel  and  will,  you  know. 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  35 

and  no  one  else  does;  wliat  A  thinks  and  feels  and 
wills,  he  knows,  and  no  one  else  does.  These  thoughts 
and  feelings  and  volitions  are  experiences,  phenomena, 
or  facts  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self — mental  facts,  in  a 
word — facts  known  to  but  one  person  directly,  and 
that  the  person  experiencing  them. 

But  I  believe  there  are  mental  facts  not  known  to 
any  one.  If  you  are  intent  upon  a  book,  the  clock 
may  strike  and  you  may  not  hear  it  at  the  time,  and  a 
minute  after  you  may  be  entirely  sure  that  you  heard 
the  clock  strike  a  minute  before,  although  you  did  not 
know  that  you  heard  it  at  the  time.  The  true  expla- 
nation of  facts  like  these  seems  to  be  that  the  clock 
produced  a  sensation  which  you  would  have  known 
was  a  sensation  of  sound  if  you  had  attended  to  it  at 
the  time  the  clock  struck,  and  in  the  sense  of  having 
received  a  sensation  of  sound  because  of  the  clock, 
you  heard  it.  But  you  did  not  know  that  you  heard 
it  until  the  minute  after.  Now,  what  must  we  call  this 
sensation  ?  Plainly  a  mental  fact,  although  there  was 
a  time  when  it  was  not  known  by  any  one.  Still, 
however,  it  is  marked  off  quite  sharply  from  all  other 
facts — physical  facts  we  ma)'^  call  them,  which  may  be 
known  with  equal  directness  by  any  number  of  people 
— by  the  circumstance  that  although  not  known,  it  is 


36  I,ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

knowable  by  but  one  person,  and  that  the  person 
experiencing  it.  We  may  then  define  a  mental  fact 
as  a  fact  known  or  knowable  to  but  one  person 
directly,  and  that  the  person  experiencing  it,  and 
i-aychology  as  the  science  of  mental  facts,  or  the 
science  of  the  facts  of  mind. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

r.    How  is  the  question,  "  What  is  Psychology,"  usually 
answered  ? 

2.  Would  you  say  that  dogs  have  souls  ? 

3.  How  would  you  defend  your  answer? 

4.  What  is  the  objection  to  defining  Psvchology  as  the 
science  of  the  mind  or  soul  ? 

5.  How  would  you  define  Psychology  ? 

6.  What  is  a  mental  fact? 

7.  What  is  a  physical  fact  ? 

8.  Into  what  two  classes  would  you  put  mental  facts  ? 

9.  Can  you  have  mental  facts  without  knowing  that  you 
have  them? 

10.    Give  examples. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  animals  reason  ? 

2.  Are  you  ever  in  a  state  of  dreamless  sleep? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  matter  as  a  substance, 
and  matter  as  a  group  of  phenomena  ? 

4.  What  do  we  know  of  matter  as  a  substance — of  the 
experiences,  phenomena,  or  facts  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  it  so  often  happens  that  you  can  not 
tell  your  motives  for  what  you  do  ? 

6.  lu  what  sense  is  it  true  that  the  soul  is  in  the  brain  ? 


LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  37 

LESSON  IV. 

THE   SUBJECT   MATTER   OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

TN  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  point  out  the  subject 
^  of  which  Psychology  treats.  1  objected  to  the 
usual  definition,  "  Psychology  is  the  science  of  the 
mind  or  soul,"  not  because  it  is  incorrect,  but  because 
I  do  not  believe  it  gives  young  students  definite  ideas. 
I  want  you  to  get  at  the  outset  the  clearest  possible 
notion  of  the  subject  you  are  to  study.  I  want  you 
to  realize  that  the  facts  of  which  you  are  directly 
conscious,  the  facts  known  directly  to  you  only — that 
these  and  similar  facts  form  the  subject  of  which 
Psychology  treats. 

It  may,  perhaps,  serve  to  put  the  subject  matter  of 
Psychology  in  a  clearer  light  to  contrast  mental  facts 
with  physical  facts.  A  physical  fact,  as  we  know,  is 
one  open  to  the  observation  of  all  men.  Trees,  and 
houses,  and  flowers,  and  fences — the  whole  of  exter- 
nal nature,  in  a  word — are  physical  facts,  since  we  can 
all  of  us  observe  them  with  equal  directness.  But 
what  shall  we  say  of  the  brain ,  or  any  of  the  internal 
organs  of  the  body  ?     Are  they  mental  facts  ?     They 

1  *>  H  Q  4  7 

±  f^  u  D  i  i 


38  LBSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

arc,  provided  they  are  known  to  but  one  person  directly, 
and  that  the  person  experiencing  them.     But  careful 
reflection  will   convince   you   that   no   one   has  any 
direct  knowledge  of  his  body.     That  we  have  such  an 
organ  as  the  heart,  for  example,  was  established  by  a 
process  of  reasoning.     If  we  had  known  it  directly,  it 
is  hard  to  see  why  the  world  was  obliged  to  wait  for 
Harvey  to  demonstrate  the  circulation  of  the  blood — 
why  it  was  not  from  the  beginning  a  matter  of  direct 
knowledge.     Strange  as  it  may  seem  at  first  thought, 
it  is  pretty  nearly  absolutely  certain  that  we  have  no 
direct  knowledge  of  our  own  bodies.     We  learn  of  the 
existence  of  our  own  bodies  as  we  do  of  the  rest  of  the 
external  world,  by  a  process  of  reasoning.     Descartes 
long  ago  said  that  if  we  could  move  the  sun  or  moon 
by  an  effort  of  will,  as  we  can  our  hands  and  feet,  we 
should  regard  them  as  a  part  of  our  own  bodies.     The 
sole  difference,  so  far  as  Psychology  is  concerned,  be- 
tween any  external  object,  as  a  tree,  and  our  bodies,  is 
(i)  that  the  former  does  not  move  in  obedience  to  our 
wills,  and  (2)  that  it  is  not  a  source  of  sensations  as  our 
bodies  are.     I  put  my  hand  on  a  hot  stove,  and  I  have 
a  feeling  of  pain.     I  put  a  stick  in  the  same  position, 
and  I  have  no  such  sensation. 

Any  one  who  has  ever  watched  a  very  young  child 


I^BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  39 

will  be  quite  sure  that  he  has  not  discriminated  his 
body  from  the  rest  of  the  external  world.  He  first 
confuses  his  body  with  the  rest  of  the  external  world. 
Little  by  little  he  comes  to  learn  that  a  little  piece  of 
this  external  world  sustains  a  very  peculiar  relation  to 
him — that  it  obeys  his  will,  moves  when  he  wishes  it 
to  move,  stops  when  he  wishes  it  to  stop,  and  that  it  is 
the  direct  occasion  of  pleasure  and  pain  as  nothing  else 
in  this  v/orld  is.  These  two  facts,  then,  and  these  two 
facts  alone,  distinguish  our  bodies  from  the  rest  of  the 
external  world,  so  far  as  Psychology  is  concerned,  and 
give  us  our  peculiar  interest  in  them. 

While  this  course  of  reasoning  makes  it  entirely 
clear  that  the  internal  organs  of  the  body  are  not 
mental  facts,  another  course  will  make  it  equally 
clear  that  they  are  physical  facts.  Is  a  pencil  in  a 
drawer  a  physical  fact  ?  No  one  can  see  it.  No,  you 
say,  but  every  one  can  see  it  if  it  is  taken  out  of  the 
drawer.  Precisely.  We  need,  then,  to  think  of  a  physi- 
cal fact  as  one  open  to  the  observation  of  all  men, 
certain  co?iditions  behig  complied  with.  Bearing  this 
in  mind,  we  see  that  the  various  internal  organs  of 
the  body  are  physical  facts,  because  when  the  body 
is  dissected  they  are  open  to  the  observation  of  all 
men,  precisely  as  is  a  tree  or  flower. 


40  I^ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

Hoping,  then,  that  the  difference  between  mental 
and  physical  facts  is  so  clear  that  there  will  be  no 
danger  of  confusing  them,  permit  me  to  call  your 
attention  a  little  more  closely  to  the  mental  facts 
which  we  are  to  study,  in  order  that  we  may  avoid  a 
mistake  into  which  many  people  fall — the  mistake 
of  supposing  that  any  of  the  mental  facts  of  which 
we  are  conscious  are  simple.  You  remember  our 
definition  of  Psychology — the  science  of  the  facts, 
phenomena,  or  experiences,  which,  when  we  are  con- 
sciotis  of  them,  we  are  conscious  of  as  experiences  of 
the  mind,  soul,  or  self.  The  point  I  wish  to  empha- 
size is  that  we  are  never  conscious  of  any  experience, 
separated  or  detached  from  the  mind.  As  you  read 
this,  you  are,  perhaps,  conscious  of  attending.  Look 
into  your  own  mind  and  see  what  it  is  you  are 
conscious  of — it  is  of  yourself  attendhig,  is  it  not  ?  And 
not  of  an  abstract  act  of  attention.  So,  also,  when 
you  perceive  or  remember  or  imagine  or  reason, 
what  you  are  conscious  of  is  not  an  abstract  act  of 
perception  or  memory  or  imagination  or  reasoning, 
but  yourself  perceiving,  yourself  remembering,  your- 
self imagining,  yourself  reasoning.  This,  of  course, 
is  only  another  way  of  saying  that  you  yourself  enter 
as  a  constituent  into  every  meyital  fact  of  zvhich  you  are 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  4I 

conscious.  In  other  words,  in  being  conscious  of 
mental  facts,  we  are  conscious  of  ourselves.  Many 
writers  appear  to  think  that  a  mental  fact  of  which  we 
are  conscious  exists  independently  of  the  mind  and 
separate  from  it,  as  a  tree  or  a  stone  seems  to  do.  But 
a  careful  looking  into  your  own  mind  will  convince 
you  that  they  are  mistaken ;  it  will  convince  you  that 
when  you  are  conscious  of  a  mental  fact  you  are  really 
conscious  of  yourself  in  a  ceriairi  act  or  state ^  of  your- 
self having  a  certaiyi  experience.  As  you  never  know 
the  act  or  state  or  experience  apart  from  yourself,  so 
you  never  know  yourself  apart  from  the  act  or  state 
or  experience.  Hume  said  that  when  he  looked  into 
his  own  mind  he  always  found  thoughts  and  feelings 
and  acts  of  the  will,  but  he  never  found  anything 
else — he  never  found  any  self.  Certainly  not  in  the 
sense  in  which  he  was  .speaking.  He  was  looking  for 
a  self  apart  from,  and  independent  of,  the  various 
thoughts  and  feelings  and  acts  of  the  will  of  which  he 
was  conscious,  and  no  such  self  is  to  be  found.  The 
self  of  consciousness,  I  repeat,  exists — not  apart  from, 
but  as  an  element  of,  the  various  experiences  of  which 
we  are  conscious. 

You  will  be  careful  to  note  that  the  mental  facts 
uito  which  the  mind  enters  as  a  constituent  are  those 


42  IvESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

of  which  we  are  conscious.  I  have  already  tried  to 
show  that  mental  facts  exist  in  the  lives  of  each  of  us 
of  which  we  are  not  conscious ;  mental  facts  of  the 
existence  of  which  we  never  know  save  by  a  process 
of  reasoning.  Of  such  mental  facts  the  mind  is  not 
an  element,  and  that  is  precisely  why  we  are  not 
conscious  of  them.  The  mind  is  conscious  or  has 
direct  knowledge  of  only  its  own  acts  or  states  or 
modifications  or  experiences.  A  mental  fact  which 
is  not  an  act  or  state  or  modification  of  the  mind,  the 
mind  can  learn  the  existence  of  only  by  a  process  of 
reasoning.  And  now  I  hope  the  scope  of  our  defini- 
tion of  Psychology  is  entirely  clear.  Psychology  is 
the  science  of  those  facts,  phenomena,  or  experiences 
which,  when  we  are  conscious  of  them,  we  are  con- 
scious of  as  experiences  of  the  mind,  soul,  or  self. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  usual  defiuition  of  Psychology,  and  what 
is  the  objection  to  it? 

2.  Is  the  brain  a  mental  fact?     Why  not  ? 

3.  How  do  we  come  to  distinguish  our  bodies  from  the 
rest  of  the  external  world  ? 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  mental  fact  of  which 
we  are  conscious  and  one  of  which  we  are  not  conscious  ? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  some  mental 
facts  ? 

6.  State  and  explain  the  definition  of  Psychology? 


LKSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  43 


SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  When  was  Harvey  born,  and  what  did  he  do  ? 

2.  Descartes  is  called  the  father  of  modern  philosophy ; 
what  does  that  mean  ?    When  was  he  born  ? 

3.  Hume   is   called  a  philosophical   skeptic;  what  is  a 
philosophical  skeptic  ? 


44  LSSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

LESSON  V. 

THE   METHOD   OF   PSYCHOLOGY. 

"T3UT  in  what  kind  of  mental  facts,"  perhaps  you 
■*~^  ask,  "is  Psychology  interested?  I  had  the 
toothache  yesterday  ;  that,  if  I  understand  you,  was  a 
mental  fact;  but  Psychology  has  no  interest  in  such 
facts,  has  it?"  No  and  yes.  That  you,  John  Smith, 
had  the  toothache  is  a  matter  of  indifference  to  Psy- 
chology. Psychology  has  no  more  interest  in  that 
fact  than  the  science  of  Botany  has  in  the  fact  that 
you  have  a  bed  of  geraniums.  Like  all  sciences,  its 
aim  is  general  knowledge ;  and  that  you,  John  Smith, 
had  the  toothache  is  not  general  knowledge — it  is 
knowledge  of  an  individual.  But  when  you  had  the 
toothache,  you  found  it  difficult  to  study,  did  you  not? 
You  can  doubtless  recall  many  similar  cases  in  your 
experience — cases  in  which  severe  pain  interfered 
with  that  concentration  of  mind  which  we  call  study. 
And  keen  delight  is  just  as  unfavorable  to  study.  You 
got  a  letter  some  time  ago  that  made  you  very  happy — 
so  happy  that  you  could  not  concentrate  your  mind 
on  your  work  for  an  hour ;  and  you  find  that  the  ex- 


I,ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  45 

perience  of  other  people  is  like  yours  in  this  regard. 
So,  although  Psychology  cares  nothing  about  your 
toothache,  there  is  something  in  the  experience  that 
it  does  care  about.  So  far  as  your  experience  ilbistrates 
what  is  true  of  all  minds  under  similar  circumstances, 
so  far  it  is  a  matter  of  interest  to  Psychology. 

Or  I  might  say  that  what  Psychology  especially 
seeks  to  ascertain  is  laws  of  mind,  or  mental  facts.  A 
law  of  mental  facts  is  a  general  truth  about  mental 
facts — something  which  will  be  true  not  only  in  all 
your  experience,  but  in  the  experience  of  every  one 
under  similar  circumstances.  We  have  just  been  con- 
sidering an  example  of  a  law  of  mental  facts — that  in- 
tense feeling,  whether  of  pleasure  or  pain,  can  not  ex- 
ist along  with  concentration  of  mind  on  another  sub- 
ject. That  is  a  law  of  mental  facts,  because  it  is  true 
of  the  experiences  of  all  men  without  exception. 
Since  one  of  the  conditions  of  concentration  of 
thought — one  of  the  things  which  makes  it  possible — 
is  the  absence  of  intense  feeling,  concentration  of 
thought,  on  a  subject  foreign  to  the  feeling,  never 
can  coexist  with  intense  feeling.  That  is  a  perfectly 
general  proposition,  and,  as  such,  illustrates  a  law  of 
the  mind. 

Evidently,  then,  to  ascertain  laws  of  the  mind,  you 


46  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

must  not  only  study  the  facts  of  your  own  experience, 
but  those  of  other  people.  If  you  confine  yourself  to 
your  own  experience,  you  can  not  be  sure  that  your 
knowledge  is  general ;  you  are  liable  to  confuse  a  per- 
sonal peculiarity  with  a  principle  of  human  nature. 
Imagine  Andrew  Jackson  endeavoring  to  get  a  know- 
ledge of  human  nature  by  studying  himself  alone.  If 
he  took  himself  as  a  type  of  men  in  general,  he  would 
have  very  erroneous  ideas  of  human  nature. 

But  can  you  study  the  minds  of  other  people  in 
the  same  way  as  you  can  your  own?  Try  it.  You 
often  wish  to  know  whether  your  pupils  are  attending 
to  you,  or  whether  they  understand  you.  Can  you 
find  out,  in  the  same  way,  that  you  know  whether 
or  not  you  are  attending?  Plainly  not.  You  know 
that  you  are  attending  simply  by  looking  into  your 
own  mind,  and  you  can  not  look  into  the  mind  of  any 
one  else.  The  word  which  means  looking  into  is 
"introspection;"  and  the  adjective  "introspective" 
seems,  therefore,  to  best  describe  the  way  or  mode 
or  method  in  which  you  study  your  own  mind.  But 
you  can  not  learn  anything  about  the  minds  of  other 
people  in  that*  way.  When  you  study  other  people, 
you  notice  their  looks  and  actions.  Many  teachers 
think  they  can  tell  whether  their  pupils  are  attending 


liESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  47 

to  them  without  asking  questions.  They  look  or  act 
as  though  they  were  attending,  and  so  the  teachers 
who  believe  this  conclude  they  are.  Conclude,  I  say. 
Note  the  word.  It  denotes  a  process  of  reasoning. 
And  when  we  study  the  minds  of  others,  we  have  to 
do  it  by  processes  of  reasoning — by  acts  of  inference. 
You  do  not  even  know  that  there  is  any  one  in  the 
world  besides  yourself  except  by  a  process  of  reason- 
ing. When  you  say  you  see  a  man,  the  truth  is  that 
you  have  sensations  of  color,  and  from  this  fact  infer 
the  presence  of  a  human  being  like  yourself.  When 
you  see  this  human  being  laugh,  you  infer  that  he  is 
amused,  just  as  you  are  conscious  of  being  amused 
when  you  laugh.  All  that  you  learn  of  any  human 
being  you  learn  by  reasoning — by  inference.  As,  thei^^^ 
we  call  the  method  of  studying  our  own  minds  the  in- 
trospective— since  we  study  them  by  looking  directly 
within — so  we  may  call  the  method  of  studying  the 
minds  of  others  the  i7iferential,  since  we  do  it  by  pro- 
cesses of  inference. 

Whatever  you  learn  about  the  minds  of  others — 
whether  you  learn  it  from  what  you  see  them  do,  or 
what  you  read  about  them — you  learn  by  means  of 
the  inferential  method.  When  you  learn  how  Wash- 
ington  exposed  himself  when  Braddock's  army  was 


48  I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

routed,  and  at  the  battle  of  Princeton,  you  infer  that 
he  was  brave,  precisely  as  you  would  have  done  if  you 
had  seen  him.  Since  all  the  facts  of  human  history 
relate  to  the  actions  of  men,  they  are  materials  which 
the  inferential  method  uses  to  increase  our  knowledge 
of  human  nature.  When  we  learn,  for  example,  that 
the  ancient  Greeks  left  their  weak  children  exposed, 
in  order  that  they  might  die,  the  inferential  method 
enables  us  to  see  that  Greek  fathers  and  mothers  did 
not  love  their  children  as  fathers  and  mothers  love 
their  children  now,  and  that  they  probably  loved  their 
country  more,  since  a  weak  child  was  considered  of 
no  worth  because  it  gave  no  promise  of  being  able  to 
be  of  service  to  the  state.  When  we  know  that 
Aristotle  said  that  all  that  was  necessary  to  reform  or 
relax  the  manners  of  a  people  was  to  add  one  string  to 
the  lyre  or  take  one  from  it,  the  same  method  enables 
us  to  see  that  the  Greeks  had  a  susceptibility  to  music 
of  which  we  can  scarcely  have  any  idea  to-day.  When 
we  know  that  "those  doughty  old  mediaeval  knights" 
"despised  the  petty  clerk's  trick  of  writing,  because, 
compared  to  a  life  of  toilsome  and  heroic  action,  it 
seemed  to  them  slavish  and  unmanly,"  we  know  that 
they  looked  upon  a  very  different  world  from  ours — 
a    world     of   different    aims    and    ideals;    that    the 


LltSSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.OOY.  49 

knowledge  we  prize  so  highly,  and  toil  so  painfully  to 
gain,  was  a  thing  of  no  value  in  their  eyes.  The  in- 
ferential method  even  uses  the  relics  of  the  pre- 
historic ages  to  add  to  our  knowledge  of  men.  It 
takes  the  rough  tools  of  the  cave-dwellers  and  forces 
from  them  a  little  knowledge  of  the  strange  men  who 
used  them. 

I  have  said  that  the  introspective  method  is  the 
method  we  use  in  studying  our  own  mental  facts. 
That  needs  qualification.  It  is  possible  for  us  to  study 
our  own  minds  by  means  of  the  inferential  method. 
People  often  forget  their  motives  for  their  actions. 
They  say,  "I  do  not  know  how  I  came  to  do  that." 
In  such  cases  they  can  learn  their  motives  only  by 
means  of  the  inferential  method,  precisely  as  though 
they  were  other  people  whose  actions  they  were  con- 
sidering, and  which  they  were  trying  to  account  for. 
Further,  the  introspective  method  can  only  give  us  in- 
dividual facts.  As  the  bodily  eye  only  sees  isolated 
objects,  and  can  not  connect  them  by  laws,  so  the  eye 
of  the  mind  only  sees  isolated  mental  facts,  and  can 
not  connect  them  together  by  laws.  In  other  words, 
we  observe  facts — not  laws.  Laws  are  the  result  of 
inference — never  of  direct  observation. 

The  introspective  and  inferential  methods,  then — 
4 


50  LBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  two  methods  of  studying  mind — evidently  sustain 
a  close  relation  to  each  other.  You  can,  indeed,  use 
the  introspective  method  without  the  inferential,  in 
tiie  mere  collection  of  facts ;  but  you  can  not  use  the 
inferential  at  all  without  the  introspective.  When 
you  infer  that  people  have  such  and  such  mental  facts 
under  such  and  such  circumstances,  it  is  because  you 
know  by  introspection  that  you  have  the  same  mental 
facts  under  the  same  circumstances.  The  laughter 
and  tears  of  others  would  have  no  meaning  to  you  if 
you  had  never  known  amusement  or  sorrow. 

Each  of  these  methods  has  its  peculiar  difficulties. 
The  results  reached  by  means  of  the  inferential 
method  are  always  more  or  less  uncertain.  If  you 
have  ever  made  a  thorough  study  of  the  history  of 
any  great  man,  you  have  doubtless  had  an  excellent 
illustrailon  of  this.  While  different  historians  gen- 
erally agree  substantially  as  to  the  actions  of  men, 
they  diflfer  very  widely  in  their  interpretations  of  those 
actions.  Federalist  historians,  and  those  who  sym- 
pathize with  them,  usually  regard  Jefferson,  for  ex- 
ample, as  a  demagogue,  while  Democratic  historians 
regard  him  as  a  sincere  and  devoted  patriot.  The 
reason  of  course  is  that,  using  the  inferential  method, 


l^ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  5I 

the  oue  explained  his  actions  by  one  set  of  mental 
facts,  the  other  by  another. 

A  passage  in  John  Fiske's  "The  Beginnings  of 
New  England,"  gives  such  an  excellent  illustration  of 
the  inferential  method  and  its  difiSculties  that  it  de- 
serves to  be  quoted  at  length  : 

"It  is  difficult  for  the  civilized  man  and  the  savage 
to  understand  each  other.  As  a  rule,  the  one  does  not 
know  what  the  other  is  thinking  about."  And  then, 
speaking  of  Eliot,  and  what  the  Indians  thought 
about  him,  the  author  goes  on :  "His  design  in  found- 
ing his  villages  of  Christian  Indians  was  in  the  highest 
degree  benevolent  and  noble,  but  the  heathen  Indians 
could  hardly  be  expected  to  see  anything  in  it  but  a 
cunning  scheme  for  destroying  them.  Eliot's  converts 
were  for  the  most  part  from  the  Massachusetts  tribe, 
the  smallest  and  weakest  of  all.  The  Plymouth  con- 
verts came  chiefly  from  the  tribe  next  in  weakness — 
the  Pokanokets,  or  Wanipanoags.  The  more  powerful 
tribes — Narragansetts,  Nipmucks,  and  Mohegans — 
furnished  very  few  converts.  When  they  saw  the 
white  intruders  gathering  members  of  the  weakest 
tribes  into  villages  of  English  type,  and  teaching  them 
strange  gods  while  clothing  them  in  strange  gar- 
ments, they  probably  supposed  that  the  pale  faces 


52  I,»(BSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

were  simply  adopting  these  Indians  into  their  white 
tribe  as  a  means  of  increasing  their  military  strength. 
At  any  rate,  such  a  proceeding  would  be  perfectly  in- 
telligible to  the  savage  mind,  whereas  the  nature  of 
Eliot's  design  lay  quite  beyond  its  ken.  As  the  In- 
dians recovered  from  their  supernatural  dread  of  the 
English,  and  began  to  regard  them  as  using  human 
means  to  accomplish  their  ends,  the)'  must,  of  course, 
interpret  their  conduct  in  such  light  as  savage  ex- 
perience could  afford.  It  is  one  of  the  commonest 
things  in  the  world  for  a  savage  tribe  to  absorb  weak 
neighbors  by  adoption,  and  thus  increase  its  force 
preparatory  to  a  deadly  assault  upon  other  neigh- 
bors." 

The  great  difficulty  with  the  introspective  method 
is  that  a  mental  fact  vanishes  as  soon  as  you  begin  to 
examine  it  introspectively.  The  feeling  of  amuse- 
ment, of  course,  is  a  mental  fact.  The  next  time  j'ou 
are  amused,  suppose  you  try  to  analyze  the  feeling. 
Some  psychologists  say  that  it  consists  in  part  of  a 
feeling  of  superiority.  If  you  make  a  study  of  your 
experience  to  see  whether  they  are  right,  your  feeling 
of  amusement  will  disappear.  Or  suppose  you  try  to 
ascertain  what  sort  of  a  mental  fact  pity  is.  When 
you  find  yourself  pitying  some  one,  if  you  examine 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  53 

your  experience  to  see  what  pity  is,  the  feeling  will 
vanish.  If  the  nature  of  flowers  were  such  that  they 
disappear  the  moment  one  begins  to  observe  them 
closely,  the  study  of  Botany  would  exactly  illustrate 
the  difficulty  of  studying  the  mind  by  means  of  the 
introspective  method.  And  as,  in  such  a  case,  the 
botanist  would  have  to  content  himself  with  observing 
his  facts  in  the  dim  light  of  memory,  so  also  must  the 
psychologist.  As  his  facts  disappear  the  moment  he 
begins  to  examine  them,  his  only  resource  is  to  ap- 
peal to  the  memory — his  introspection  becomes  retro- 
spection. 

Of  course  the  minds  that  are  of  the  most  importance 
for  you  as  teachers  to  study  are  the  minds  of  children, 
and  it  is  evident  that  you  must  study  them  by  means 
of  the  inferential  method.  If  you  would  get  that 
knowledge  of  them  that  will  enable  you  to  teach  them 
well,  you  must  note  their  likes  and  dislikes,  their 
amusements,  their  games,  the  books  they  read,  the 
mistakes  they  make — everything,  in  short,  that  may 
throw  light  on  their  minds.  Do  not  rely  on  any 
knowledge  of  the  mind  you  can  get  from  this  or  any 
book.  A  good  book  on  Psychology  is  like  a  guide  in 
a  strange  city—  useful  chiefly  in  telling  you  where  to 
look.     But  as  a  guide  is  of  no  service  to  a  man  who 


54  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

refuses  to  use  his  eyes,  so  a  writer  on  Psychology  can 
be  of  little  use  to  his  readers  unless  they  constantly 
test  his  statements  by  their  own  experiences  and  by 
the  study  of  the  minds  of  those  around  them.* 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  kind  of  mental  facts  constitutes  the  science  of 
Psychology  ?    Illustrate. 

2.  What  is  a  lav/  of  mental  facts?    Illustrate. 

3.  State  and  explain  and  illustrate  the  two  ways  of  study- 
ing mental  facts. 

4.  Illustrate  how  the  inferential  method  uses  historical 
facts  to  enlarge  our  knowledge  of  mind. 

5.  How  can  yoli  study  your  own  mind  by  means  of  the 
inferential  method  ? 

6.  Point  out  the  relations  that  exist  between  the  two 
methods. 

7.  State  and  illustrate  the  difficulties  of  the  two  methods, 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Are  there  any  mental  facts  which  do  not  form  part  of 
the  science  of  Psychology  ? 

2.  Do  you  kuov7  any  facts  which  indicate  that  there  is  a 
diflference  in  the  keenness  of  internal  perception  in  different 
people  ? 

3.  If  you  were  a  Turk  or  a  Chinaman,  and  knew  noth- 
ing of  any  other  people,  how  would  it  influence  j'our  notion 
of  human  nature  ? 

4.  Is  pity  a  state  of  pleasure  ? 

5.  How  does  the  quotation  from  Fiske  illustrate  the 
difficulties  of  the  inferential  method? 


*For  a  brief  explanation  of  some  varieties  of  the  inferen- 
tial method,  see  Appendix  B. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  55 

LESSON  VI. 

NRCESSARY  TRUTHS  AND   NECESSARY  BELIEFS. 

T  T  ZE  would  all  agree  that  geometry  does  right  to 
''  '  state  its  axioms  at  the  beginning.  All  its 
demonstrations  depend  upon  them,  and  therefore  it  is 
proper  that  they  should  receive  our  attention  at  the 
outset. 

For  similar  reasons  it  is  important  for  us  to  ascer- 
tain as  clearly  as  possible  what  we  can  learn  by  means 
of  the  introspective  method.  Since  the  introspective 
and  the  inferential  methods  are  the  only  methods  of 
studying  mental  facts,  and  since  the  inferential  is 
based  on  the  introspective,  what  we  learn  by  means  of 
the  introspective  method  lies  at  the  foundation  of  our 
knowledge  of  mind.  If  you  were  building  a  house, 
you  would  be  especially  careful  about  the  foundation. 
You  would  want  it  all  strong  and  well  made,  but  you 
would  take  particular  pains  to  see  that  there  was  no 
flaw  in  the  foundation.  No  matter  how  strong  and 
fine  and  beautiful  the  rest  of  the  house  might  be,  you 
would  feel  that  if  the  foundation  was  weak  the  whole 
thing  might  come  tumbling  down  about  you  any  day. 


56  l,ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI«OGY. 

So  it  behooves  us  to  look  carefully  to  the  foundation  of 
our  knowledge  of  mind,  and  therefore  to  ascertain 
precisely  what  kind  of  knowledge  we  have  of  the  facts 
known  to  us  through  introspection,  and  what  we  can 
learn  by  means  of  it. 

But  the  knowledge  gained  by  introspection  so 
closely  resembles  another  kind  of  knowledge  that  the 
two  are  liable  to  be  confused,  unless  at  the  outset  the 
latter  is  clearly  explained.  To  this  end  permit  me,  in 
imagination,  to  talk  with  you  about  some  familiar 
matters. 

"  Have  you  ever  seen  a  stick  with  but  one  end,  or 
a  white  crow?" 

"  No,"  you  answer. 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  that  you  ever  shall? " 

"  Possible  to  see  a  white  crow?  Certainly  there  is 
no  impossibility  in  that.  I  know  no  reason  why  a 
bird  might  not  exist  like  the  crow  in  every  respect 
except  the  color  of  its  feathers.  But  a  stick  with  one 
end  ?  That  is  not  merely  an  impossibility ;  it  is  an 
absurdity.     You  can  not  even  assert  its  existence." 

"  Pardon  me,  but  I  think  you  are  mistaken.  'This 
stick  has  but  one  end.'  Have  I  not  asserted  its 
existence? " 

•'Apparently,  but  not  really.     You  haye  indeed 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  57 

strung  a  lot  of  words  together  in  the  form  of  a 
sentence — a  sentence  to  which  I  have  no  objection  on 
the  score  of  grammar.  But  there  is  one  fatal  objec- 
tion to  it;  it  does  not  mean  anything." 

"Does  not  mean  anything?  I  do  not  understand 
you." 

"  Your  statement  does  not  express  any  action  of 
the  mind.  All  sentences  that  mean  anything  are 
expressions  of  thought.  But  when  you  say,  '  This 
stick  has  but  one  end,'  you  have  simply  used  your 
organs  of  speech ;  you  have  not  thought  anything.  I 
might  teach  a  parrot  to  say,  '  Kant's  arguments  in  de- 
fense of  the  antinomies  of  human  reason  have  never 
been  refuted.'  But  what  would  those  words  mean  in 
the  mouth  of  a  parrot  ?  Nothing,  and  that  is  all  you 
mean  when  you  assert  the  existence  of  a  one-ended 
stick." 

"  Possibly  I  am  stupid,  but  I  really  do  not  see  why." 

"  For  this  very  simple  reason:  The  meaning  of  stick 
is  a  thing  that  has  two  ends.  When,  therefore,  you 
say  '  This  stick  has  but  one  end,'  it  is  equivalent  to  say- 
ing, '  This  two-ended  thing  has  but  one  end ;  this 
thing,  which  has  two  ends,  has  but  one  end.'  Now  it 
is  easy  enough  to  say  that,  but  impossiblt  to  think  it, 
is  it  not?  " 


5$  I<B8SONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

"  I  see  that  it  is.  A  thing  can  not  have  two  ends 
and  but  one  end  at  the  same  time ;  it  can  not  both  be 
and  not  be." 

This  is  an  example  of  what  metaphysicians  call 
necessary  truths '•'■ — "a  truth  or  law  the  opposite  of 
which  is  inconceivable,  contradictory,  nonsensical, 
impossible."  t  A  little  reflection  will  enable  us  to 
think  of  many  others.  Two  straight  lines  can  not 
inclose  a  space ;  two+three=five ;  these  are  examples 
of  necessary  truths  because  the  opposite  of  each  of 
them  is  inconceivable,  contradictory,  nonsensical, 
impossible.  If  two  straight  lines  could  inclose  a 
space,  they  could  be  straight  and  crooked  at  the  same 
time ;  if  two+three  could  be  more  or  less  than  five,  it 
could  be  itself  and  not  itself  at  the  same  time,  which  is 
absurd,  contradictory,  impossible. 

To  determine  v/hether  a  proposition  expresses  a 
necessary  truth  or  not,  we  must  see  if  we  can  put  any 
meaning  into  the  proposition  which  contradicts  it. 
But  in  applying  the  test  we  must  be  on  our  guard 
against  confusing — putting  a  meaiiing  into  the  subject 
and  predicate  with  putting  a  meaning  into  the  proposi- 
tion.    This  square  is  round.     Here  both  subject  and 


*  These  are  sometimes  called  intuitions. 

1  Ferrier's  Institutes  of  Metai^bysics,  page  ao. 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  59 

predicate  bring  up  familiar  ideas.  But  a  moment's 
reflection  enables  us  to  see  that  the  intelligibleness  of 
the  subject  and  predicate  is  a  very  different  thing 
from  the  intelligibleness  of  the  proposition.  For  if 
the  square  is  round,  it  is  itself  and  not  itself  at  the 
same  time,  which  is  unthinkable  and  impossible. 

lyCt  us  now  turn  our  attention  to  a  class  of 
propositions  that,  at  first  sight,  look  very  much  like 
necessary  truths,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are  funda- 
mentally different.  You  go  to  your  room  on  a  cold 
winter  morning  and  begin  to  build  a  fire.  "Why  do 
you  build  a  fire?"  I  ask.  "Because  it  is  cold." 
"What  makes  you  think  that  a  fire  will  make  it 
warmer?  "  "Because  it  did  so  yesterday,  and  the  day 
before,  and  the  day  before  that — because  it  always  has 
done  so  in  the  past."  "  But  what  has  the  past  to  do 
with  the  present  and  the  future  ?  How  do  you  kno7c> 
that  things  will  behave  in  the  future  as  they  have  done 
in  the  past  f  I  can  not  answer  the  question;  I  do 
not  believe  any  one  can.  The  past,  as  Bain  says,  is 
separated  from  the  future  by  a  chasm  which  no  re- 
sources of  logic  will  ever  enable  us  to  bridge.* 

*  "  The  most  authentic  recollection  gives  only  what  kas 
been,  something  that  has  ceased  and  can  concern  us  no  longer. 
A  far  more  perilous  leap  remains,  tkg  leap  to  the  future.    All 


€•  I,«S30NS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  while  we  "  can  give  no  reason  or  evidence  " 
that  "  what  has  been  will  be,"  that  things  will  behave 
in  the  future  as  they  have  done  in  the  past — under 
precisely  similar  circumstances — the  peculiar  fact  is 
that  we  do  not  want  any.  When  we  know  that  a 
thing  has  happened  in  the  past,  we  are  entirely  sure 
that  it  will,  under  similar  circumstances,  in  the  future — 
so  sure  that  we  can  not  help   believi7ig  it  even  if  we 

W07lld. 

This  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  we  may  properly 
call  such  beliefs  necessary — the  fact  that  we  can  not 
rid  ourselves  of  them.  But  while  they  share  this 
characteristic    of   inevitableness    or    necessity    with 


our  interest  is  concentrated  on  what  is  yet  to  be ;  the  present 
and  the  past  are  of  value  only  as  a  clue  to  the  events  that  are 
to  come. 

"  The  postulate  that  we  are  in  quest  of  must  carrj'  us 
across  the  gnilf,  from  the  experienced  known,  either  present 
or  remembered,  to  the  unexperienced  and  unknown — must 
perform  the  leap  of  real  inference.  '  Water  has  quenched  our 
thirst  in  the  past ;  by  what  assumption  do  we  affirm  that  the 
same  will  happen  in  the  future?  '  Experience  does  not  teach 
us  this  ;  experience  is  only  what  has  actually  been;  and  after 
never  so  many  repetitions  of  a  thing  there  still  remains  the 
peril  of  venturing  upon  the  untrodden  land  of  future 
possibility.  '  What  has  been  will  be,'  justifies  the  inference 
that  water  will  assuage  thirst  in  after  times.  We  can  give  no 
reason  or  evidence  for  this  uniformity." — Bain's  Logic,  p,  671. 


WESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOOY.  6 1 

necessary  truths,  the  necessity  in  the  two  cases  is  of  a 
very  different  character.  The  necessity  of  necessary 
truths  is  a  necessity  of  seeing ;  the  necessity  of  neces- 
sary beliefs  is  a  necessity  of  believing.  We  know  with 
absolute  certainty  that  two  straight  lines  can  not  inclose 
a  space  ;  we  believe  with  irresistible  strength  of  con- 
viction that  what  has  been  will  be,  under  similar  cir_ 
cumstances — not  that  it  must  be.  We  can  not  even 
think  of  two  straight  lines  inclosing  a  space ;  we  can 
very  easily  think  of  this  orderly  universe  becoming  a 
chaos  in  which  there  would  be  an  utter  absence  of  law 
and  order,  in  which  combustion  would  be  followed  by 
heat  one  day,  cold  another,  and  so  on.  The  necessity, 
then,  of  necessary  beliefs  is  a  necessity  of  belief,  not 
of  knowledge.  We  do  not  know,  strictly  speaking, 
that  the  thing  we  believe  so  firmly  is  true,  but  we  be- 
lieve it  with  irresistible  strength  of  conviction,  not- 
withstanding. 

Some  of  our  necessary  beliefs — for  instance,  the 
one  we  have  been  considering — have  another  kind  of 
necessity.  If  we  did  not  assume  that  the  past  would 
enable  us  to  judge  of  the  future,  all  rational  action 
would  be  impossible.  Take  that  belief  from  the 
minds  of  men,  and  their  rational  activities  would  cease 
as  suddenly  as  though  they  had  been  transformed  into 


62  lessons'  in  psychology. 

stone.  I  eat  when  I  am  hungry,  drink  when  I  am 
thirsty,  rest  when  I  am  tired — do  everything  which  I 
do  under  the  influence  of  that  belief.  The  farmer 
sows,  the  mechanic  builds,  the  lawyer  perpares  his 
brief,  the  doctor  writes  his  prescription,  because  they 
think  that  a  knowledge  of  the  past  enables  them  to 
anticipate  the  future  more  or  less  accurately. 

The  principle,  then,  that  what  has  been  will  be,  is 
necessary  not  only  in  the  sense  that  we  can  not  get  rid 
of  it,  but  also  in  the  sense  that  we  must  believe  it  in 
order  to  live  in  the  world.  If  a  being  were  born  in 
the  world  destitute  of  the  tendency  or  predisposition 
to  accept  the  past  as  in  some  sense  a  type  of  the 
future,  he  would  necessarily  perish. 

Of  necessary  beliefs  of  this  class  it  is  absurd  to 
raise  the  question  as  to  their  truth.  Though  we  are 
not  prevented  from  questioning  them  by  the  very 
nature  of  our  minds — as  in  the  case  of  necessary 
truths — still,  if  we  mu.st  accept  them  in  order  to  act  and 
live,  the  possibility  of  questioning  them  will  remain  a 
bare  possibility. 

But  if  we  have  beliefs  that  are  necessary  in  the 
sense  that  we  can  not  get  rid  of  them,  but  not  in  the 
sense  that  we  must  accept  them  because  of  their  prac- 
tical importance,  it  is  evident  that  the  question  as  to 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  63 

their  truth  is  altogether  in  order.  A  dozen  different 
branches  of  science — physics,  chemistry,  physiology, 
astronomy,  etc.,  as  well  as  Psychology — have  shown  us 
very  clearly  that  many  of  the  things  which  seevi  to  be 
true — and  which  continue  to  seem  to  be  after  we  know 
they  are  not — are  false.  The  sun  still  seems  to  rise 
and  set,  although  we  know  it  does  not.  To  call  a  halt 
to  investigation,  therefore,  on  the  threshold  of  neces- 
sary beliefs  of  this  character  would  amount  to  an 
attempt  to  protect  Error  against  the  assaults  of  Truth. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  relation  between  the  introspective   and 
inferential  methods  ? 

2.  Why  is  it  important  for  us  to  learn  what  we   are 
conscious  of? 

3.  State  the  difference  between  a  necessary  truth  and  a 
necessary  belief. 

4.  Can  you  doubt  a  necessary  belief? 

5.  What  are  the  two  classes  of  necessary  beliefs  ? 

6.  Can  you  question  the  truth  of  a  necessary  belief? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  in  meaning  between  questions 
four  and  six  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Make  as  complete  a  list  as  you  can  of  what  you  regard 
as  necessary  truths. 

2.  What  do  you   suppose   the   phrase,  "Entertain   the 
idea,"  originally  meant  ? 


64  LBlSeONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

3.  You  believe  many  things  because,  as  you  say,  you 
remember  them.  Are  the  assertions  of  memory  examples  of 
necessary  truths  or  necessary  beliefs  or  neither  ? 

4.  What  does  Bain  mean  by  the  "leap  of  real  inference?" 

5.  Mention  some  other  necessary  beliefs  besides  the  one 
spoken  of  in  the  lesson. 

6.  Mention  some  that  are  necessary  in  the  sense  that  we 
can't  help  believing  them,  but  not  necessary  in  the  sense  that 
the  nature  of  the  world  compels  us  to  assume  them. 

7.  Mention  some  things  that  seem  to  us  to  be  true, 
although  science  has  shown  that  they  are  not. 

8.  What  is  meant  by  the  "  uniformity  of  nature?  " 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOI^OGY.  65 

I.ESSON  VII. 

WHAT   ARE   WE   CONSCIOUS   OP? 

''  I  ^HE  object  of  the  last  lesson  was  to  make  clear 
-*-  the  distinction  between  necessary  truths  and 
necessary  beliefs.  I  tried  to  show  that  there  are  truths 
that  the  mind  must  see  when  it  clearly  grasps  the  sub- 
ject and  predicate  of  the  proposition  that  expresses 
them.  But  the  mind  by  no  means  inevitably  sees  all 
the  necessary  truths  it  is  capable  of  seeing,  because 
there  are  subjects  and  predicates  that  are  beyond  its 
grasp  at  certain  stages  of  its  development,  and  others 
that  it  might  grasp,  but  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  it 
has  not  grasped.  "Seven  plus  five  makes  twelve"  is  a 
necessarj'  truth.  But  the  child  does  not  see  it,  be- 
cause he  can  not  grasp  seven  and  five.  A  necessary 
truth,  then,  is  not  a  truth  that  the  mind  must  see,  but 
which,  whe7t  it  sees,  it  sees  to  be  necessary. 

Necessary  beliefs  resemble  necessary  truths  in  that 
we  are  not  only  willing,  but,  in  a  measure,  forced  to 
believe  them,  in  the  absence  of  reason  and  evidence. 
Indeed,  we  are  certain  both  of  necessary  truths  and 
necessary  beliefs ;  but  our  certainty  dififers  widely  in 
the  two  cases.     In  the  one,  it  is  a  certainty  of  know- 

5 


65  I,«SSONS  IN   PSYCHOI^OGY. 

ledge ;  in  the  other,  of  belief.  Moreover,  the  necessity 
of  necessary  beliefs,  unlike  that  of  necessary  truths, 
is  not  in  all  cases  absolutely  unyielding  in  its  nature. 
When  we  look  through  an  opera-glass  we  can  not  help 
seeming  to  see  the  object  much  nearer  than  it  really  is. 
Such  irresistible  "seemings"  we  call  beliefs  until  we 
learn  that  they  are  false,  but  no  longer.  This  is  one 
of  a  multitude  of  instances  in  which  what  seems  to  be 
true  is  directly  opposed  to  what  we  know  to  be  true. 
It  would  appear,  therefore,  only  a  matter  of  common 
prudence  to  accept  as  true  only  those  necessary  be- 
liefs which  we  can  not  get  along  without. 

Necessary  truths,  necessary  beliefs,  and  what  we 
are  conscious  of,  then,  constitute  the  foundation  of 
everything  we  know  and  believe,  not  only  about  mind, 
but  about  the  world  in  general.  Now  that  we  know 
what  necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs  are,  it 
will  be  comparatively  easy  for  us  to  determine  the 
kind  of  knowledge  that  consciousness  is,  and  the 
kinds  of  facts  of  which  we  are  conscious.  If  we  had 
attempted  to  learn  what  consciousness  is  before  making 
a  study  of  necessary  truths,  there  would  have  been 
great  danger  of  our  confusing  the  knowledge  of  the 
facts  that  we  are  conscious  of  with  the  knowledge  of 
necessary  truths. 


I«KSSONS   IN   PSYCHOI^OGY.  67 

I/Ct  US  first  try  to  ascertain  what  that  kind  of 
knowledge  is  that  we  call  conscious  knowledge.  For 
to  ask  what  kind  of  facts  we  are  conscious  of  is  to  ask 
what  we  know  in  precisely  the  same  way,  with  the 
same  kind  and  decree  of  certainty,  as  we  do  the  facts 
which  every  one  admits  we  are  co7iscious  of.  Every  one 
admits  that  we  are  conscious  of  the  mental  facts  we 
know  by  introspection.  Evidently,  in  order  to  learn 
whether  we  are  conscious  of  anything  else,  we  need 
to  learn  whether  we  know  anything  else  in  the  same 
way,  and  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  certainty; 
we  need  to  learn  whether  our  knowledge  of  any  other 
facts  has  the  same  characteristics  as  onr  knowledge  of 
mental  facts.  When  Columbus  first  came  to  this 
country,  if  he  had  been  told  that  certain  animals  that 
he  saw  were  buffaloes,  he  would  have  had  to  learn 
their  characteristics  in  order  to  be  able  to  recognize 
buffaloes  when  he  saw  them  again.  Knowing  their 
characteristics,  he  would  have  been  able  to  recognize 
a  buffalo  as  easily  as  a  horse  or  dog.  In  like  manner, 
since  we  are  conscious  of  those  facts  which  we  have 
agreed  to  call  mental  facts,  we  have  to  learn  the  char- 
acteristics of  our  knowledge  of  mental  facts,  in  order 
to  learn  whether  we  are  conscious  of  anything  else. 
For  if  our  knowledge  of  anything  else  has  the  same 


68  l<ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

characteristics  as  our  conscious  knowledge,  it  also 
must  be  conscious  knowledge.  What,  then,  are  the 
characteristics  of  the  kind  of  knowledge  that  every 
one  admits  to  be  conscious  knowledge  ? 

Have  you  ever  been  in  pain?  Suppose  that,  while 
you  were  writhing  in  agony,  some  one  had  asked  you 
if  you  were  sure  you  had  any  pain.  How  do  you 
think  you  would  have  answered  the  question — if,  in- 
deed, you  had  possessed  the  patience  to  answer  it  at 
all?  You  would  have  said,  I  think,  that  your  certainty 
was  so  great  that  it  could  be  no  greater.  Put  so  much 
water  into  a  glass,  and  not  another  drop,  not  an  atom 
more  can  you  make  it  hold.  So,  you  would  have  said, 
certainty  beyond  or  greater  than  yours  it  was  impos- 
sible for  any  conscious  being  to  have.  "But  ma)^  you 
not  be  deceived — may  not  your  pain  be  a  mere  illusion, 
like  the  experiences  of  your  dreams?"  your  questioner 
might  have  asked.  "Deceived  as  to  being  in  pain, 
when  I  am  literally  writhing  in  agony?  No!  I  know 
it  so  absolutely  that  I  know  that  I  can  not  be  mis- 
taken. There  is  much  that  I  believe  that  I  realize  I 
may  be  mistaken  in.  But  this  is  certainty — certainty 
that  admits  of  no  doubt — certainty  that  makes  doubt 
an  absurdity  and  an  impossibility."  Conscious  know- 
ledge, then,  is  absolutely  certain   knowledge — know- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  69 

ledge  so  certain  as  to  make  doubt  an  absurdity  and 
an  impossibility. 

But  this,  we  have  seen,  is  exactly  what  the  know- 
ledge of  necessary  truths  is.  We  know  that  two 
straight  lines  can  not  inclose  a  space  so  certainly  as  to 
make  doubt  an  absurdity  and  an  impossibility.  Is 
there  no  difference  between  the  knowledge  of  neces- 
sary truths  and  conscious  knowledge  ? 

If  we  compare  the  attitude  of  our  minds  towards  a 
necessary  truth  with  its  attitude  towards  a  mental 
fact,  I  think  we  shall  see  a  difference.  Tv*^o  straight 
lines  can  not  inclose  a  space.  Where?  In  England, 
on  the  sun,  wherever  straight  lines  are,  we  know 
that  they  can  not  inclose  a  space.  Our  knowledge  is 
not  of  an  individual  fact,  with  which  the  mind  seems 
face  to  face,  but  of  an  entire  class  of  facts,  wherever 
they  may  exist.  But  our  knowledge  of  a  pain,  for  ex- 
ample, although  it  is  like  our  knowledge  of  a  neces- 
sary truth  in  the  kind  and  degree  of  certainty  that  it 
gives  us,  differs  from  it  in  being  knowledge  of  an  indi- 
vidual fact  with  which  the  mind  seems  face  to  face — of 
which  the  mind  seems  directly  aware. 

Conscious  knowledge,  then,  is  absolutely  certain 
knowledge  of  individual  facts  of  which  the  mind 
seems  directly  aware.  Instead,  then,  of  asking  whether 


7©  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

there  are  any  facts  except  mental  facts  that  we  are 
conscious  of,  we  can  put  the  question  in  this  form :  Are 
there  any  facts  except  mental  facts  with  which  the 
mind  seems  face  to  face,  and  which  we  know  with 
such  absolute  certainty  as  to  make  doubt  an  absurdity 
and  an  impossibility? 

Perhaps,  some  evening  shortly  after  reading  this 
lesson,  you  will  take  a  walk.  As  you  glance  at  the 
stars  shining  so  brightly  above  3'ou,  you  think  of  the 
subject  of  the  lesson,  and  ask  yourself  if  you  really 
are  conscious  of  them.  Do  you,  as  you  see  those  little 
twinkling  points  of  liglit  in  the  heavens  above  you, 
know  that  they  exist,  so  certainly,  so  absolutely,  as  to 
make  doubt  an  impossibility? 

The  fixed  stars,  as  we  know,  are  almost  incon- 
ceivably far  away.  They  are  so  far  away  that  astron- 
omers never  think  of  stating  their  distance  in  miles. 
Instead  of  telling  us  their  distance  in  miles,  they  tell 
us  how  long  it  takes  light  to  travel  from  them  to  us. 
Now,  light  travels  about  180,000  miles  in  3.  second,  and 
the  nearest  of  the  fixed  stars  is  so  far  away  that  it 
takes  light  three  years  to  come  from  it  to  us.  Sup- 
pose, then,  that  the  nearest  fixed  star  had  been  de- 
stroyed two  years  and  a  half  ago.  Would  you  see  it 
to-night?     Certainly,  just  as  you  see  any  other  star; 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  7 1 

for  the  light  that  strikes  your  eyes  as  you  look  at  it 
left  it  two  years  and  a  half  ago — six  months  before  it 
was  destroyed.  And  for  the  same  reason  you  would 
see  it  to-morrow  night,  and  the  next,  and  so  on  for  six 
months.  Night  after  night  for  six  months  you  would 
see  the  star  shining  above  you,  although  it  did  not 
exist  at  all!  When,  then,  I  ask  if  you  know  that  the 
stars  exist  as  you  look  at  them,  evidentlj'  the  most  you 
can  say  is  that  they  do,  unless  they  have  been  de- 
stroyed since  the  light  left  them  by  which  5-ou  now 
see  them.  But  if  that  is  your  answer,  you  can  not  say 
that  you  know  that  they  exist  so  absolutely  as  to  make 
doubt  an  impossibility,  for  you  do  not  know  that  they 
have  not  been  destroyed  since  the  light  left  them  which 
enables  you  to  see  them.  Therefore  you  are  not  con- 
scious of  them. 

"But  at  any  rate,"  perhaps  you  will  say,  "I  am 
conscious  of  the  objects  about  me.  I  take  a  walk, 
and  I  see  the  beautiful  bouquets  of  autumn  adorning 
the  hill-sides.  I  see  the  fields  stretching  out  before 
me,  and  here  and  there  a  farmer  busy  at  work.  As  I 
mark  how  the  leaves  of  the  hedge  were  nipped  by  last 
night's  frost,  a  rabbit  suddenly  leaps  from  under  my 
feet,  and  I  wish  for  my  gun  as  he  fairly  flies  away  from 


72  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

me.  Surely,"  you  will  say,  "you  will  admit  that  I  am 
conscious  of  these  things?" 

Are  you?  Put  the  question  to  yourself.  Ask  your- 
self if  you  knoxv  that  these  things  exist  so  absolutely 
that  doubt  is  an  impossibility.  Do  you  like  hunting? 
If  so,  I  am  sure  you  have  dreamed  of  standing  behind 
a  trusty  pointer,  gun  in  hand,  ready  to  take  the  first 
quail  that  makes  its  appearance  above  the  weeds.  And 
while  you  are  in  the  midst  of  your  excitement  you 
awake  perhaps  to  find  that  you  have  neither  dog  nor 
gun — to  find  that  you  have  been  hunting  only  in  a 
dream.  "What  of  it?"  you  ask.  This:  A  certainty 
quite  as  great  as — indeed  indistinguishable  from — 
your  waking  certainties  proved  untrustworthy ;  may 
not  your  waking  certainties  be  unreliable?  You  will 
not,  of  course,  imagine  that  I  doubt  that  I  see  and 
hear  the  various  things  which  I  seem  to  see  and  hear, 
or  that  I  am  trying  to  make  you  doubt  them.  I  am 
simply  trying  to  show  that  you  do  not  know  them  with 
the  same  absolute  certainty  that  you  do  the  mental 
facts  of  your  experience,  and  that,  therefore,  you  are 
not  conscious  of  them. 

But  these  arguments,  conclusive  as  they  seem  to 
me,  are  not  the  considerations  which  are  entitled  to 
most  weight.     Simply  by  looking  into  my  ©wn  mind, 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  73 

I  know  that  I  do  not  know  the  existence  of  the  objects 
about  nie  with  the  same  kind  and  degree  of  certainty 
that  I  do  the  mental  facts  I  am  conscious  of,  and  that, 
therefore,  I  am  not  conscious  of  them. 

Look  carefully  into  your  experience,  and  you  will 
see  that  the  only  facts  which  you  knovv'  with  absolute 
certainty  are  the  facts  of  your  own  mental  life.  You 
will  need  no  arguments  to  prove  that  you  can  not  have 
absolute  knowledge  of  any  other  individual  facts — you 
will  see  that  you  do  not  so  clearly  as  to  make  argu- 
ment superfluous.  But  if  you  do  not,  permit  me  to 
ask  you  to  hold  your  judgment  in  suspense  until  you 
have  had  more  experience  in  the  study  of  mental  facts. 
You  would  take  the  opinion  of  a  sailor  as  to  the  char- 
acter of  a  distant  object  at  sea  in  preference  to  your 
own,  simply  because  of  his  more  extended  experience. 
Inasmuch  as  trained  Psychologists,  almost  without  ex- 
ception, contend  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  the  ob- 
jects about  us,  I  ask  you  to  hold  your  judgment  in 
suspense  until  you  have  studied  the  subject  long 
enough  to  give  you  a  right  to  an  opinion. 

It  seems  to  me  equally  clear  that  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  our  own  bodies.  A  man  with  an  amputated 
limb  often  feels  pain  in  the  amputated  member,  ex- 
actly as  he  does  in  any  other  part  of  the  body.     But 


74  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

he  can  not  be  consc4ou.s  of  the  amputated  Hmb.  You 
admit  that.  You  admit  that  a  man  can  not  be  conscious 
of  a  leg  that  has  been  buried  for  months.  Well,  if  he 
seems  to  be  conscious  of  the  amputated  member  and 
is  not,  he  has  no  reason  to  believe  that  he  is  conscious  of 
a  member  that  is  not  am.putated  because  he  seems  to  be. 

I  think  we  may  conclude,  therefore,  that  we  know 
no  other  individual  facts  with  the  same  kind  and 
degree  of  certainty  as  we  do  the  facts  of  which  we  are 
conscious ;  and  that,  therefore,  we  are  conscious  of 
nothing  else. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  foundation  of  all  we  know  and  believe  ? 

2.  What  is  the  difference  between  our  knowledge  of  a 
necessary  truth  and  our  knowledge  of  a  mental  fact  ? 

3.  Are  you  conscious  of  the  stars  ?  Of  the  objects  about 
you  ?   Of  your  own  body  ? 

4.  Give  your  reasons  for  your  answers. 

5.  If  you  believe  that  you  are  not  conscious  of  anything 
except  mental  facts,  state  what  you  regard  as  the  strongest 
reason  for  your  opinion. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Give  examples  of  necessary  truths  that  are  beyond  the 
grasp  of  a  savage. 

2.  How  do  you  account  for  the  effect  of  looking  at  an 
object  through  an  opera-glass  ? 


LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  75 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  real  pain  and  imagin- 
ary pain  ? 

4.  "  In  this  wonder-world  a  dream  is 

Our  whole  life  and  all  its  changes, 
All  we  seem  to  be  and  do 
Is  a  dream  and  fancy  too. 
Briefly,  on  this  earthern  ball 
Dreaming  that  we're  living  all." 
What  part  of  these  assertions  do  you  know  to  be  false? 

5.  How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  a  man  often 
feels  pain  in  an  amputated  limb  ? 


76  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON    VIII. 

f 

ATTENTION.  i 


"f  T  7E  have  seen  that  conscious  knowledge  is  that 
^  ^  knowledge  which  we  have  of  those  mental  facts 
which  we  know  directly.  We  have  learned  also  that 
there  are  mental  facts  of  which  we  are  not  conscious. 
You  remember  the  example— a  student  intent  upon  a 
book  and  not  hearing  the  clock  strike  till  a  moment 
after.  What  is  the  explanation  of  such  facts  ?  The 
attention  of  the  student  was  so  fixed  upon  his  book — 
his  entire  consciousness  was  so  concentrated  upon 
it — that  there  was  no  consciousness  left  for  the  sensa- 
tion. Thus  i/ie  sensations  of  which  we  are  conscious 
depend  upon  attention.  In  his  "Mental  Physiology," 
Carpenter  gives  some  remarkable  examples  of  this. 
For  instance:  "Before  the  introduction  of  chloroform , 
patients  sometimes  went  through  severe  operations 
without  giving  any  sign  of  pain,  and  afterwards 
declared  that  they  felt  none:  having  concentrated 
their  thoughts,  by  a  powerful  effort  of  abstraction,  on 
.some  subject  which  held  them  engaged  throughout." 
"  The  writer  has  frequently  begun  a  lecture,  whilst 


I^flSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  77 

suffering  neuralgic  pain  so  severe  as  to  make  him 
apprehend  that  he  would  find  it  impossible  to  proceed; 
yet  no  sooner  has  he,  by  a  determined  effort,  fairly 
launched  himself  into  the  stream  of  thought  than  he 
has  found  himself  continuously  borne  along  without 
the  least  distraction  until  the  end  has  come,  and  the 
attention  has  been  released;  when  the  pain  has  re- 
curred with  a  force  that  has  overmastered  all  resist- 
ance, making  him  wonder  how  he  could  have  ever 
ceased  to  feel  it."  A  similar  experience  in  the  case  of 
Sir  Walter  Scott  is  thus  recorded  by  his  biographer  : 
"John  Ballantyne  (whom  Scott,  while  suffering  under 
a  prolonged  and  painful  illness  employed  as  his 
amanuensis)  told  me  that,  though  Scott  often  turned 
himself  on  his  pillow  with  a  groan  of  torment,  he 
u'^ually  continued  the  sentence  in  the  same  breath. 
But  when  dialogue  of  peculiar  animation  was  in  pro- 
gress, spirit  seemed  to  triumph  altogether  over  matter 
— he  arose  from  his  couch,  and  walked  up  and  down 
the  room,  raising  and  lowering  his  voice,  and,  as  it 
were,  acting  the  parts.  It  was  in  this  fashion  that  Scott 
produced  the  far  greater  portion  of  the  'Bride  of 
lyammermoor,'  the  whole  of  the  'Legend  of  Montrose,' 
and  almost  the  whole  of '  Ivanhoe.'  " 

What  we  perceive  depends  upon  attention.     Let  a 


78  I^BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

botanist  and  geologist  take  the  same  walk— and  the 
botanist  will  see  the  flowers,  and  the  geologist  the 
rocks,  because  each  sees  what  he  attends  to.  The 
next  time  you  take  a  walk  go  along  the  most  familiar 
road  in  your  neighborhood,  and  see  if  you  can't  dis- 
cover something  new  to  you — some  tree  or  shed  that 
has  been  there  all  the  time.  I  have  often  had  that 
experience.  The  reason  is  that  these  unperceived  ob- 
jects were  not  attended  to. 

What  we  remember  depends  upon  what  we  attend 
to.  Have  you  ever  thought  of  it?  Most  of  our  past 
lives  is  a  perfect  Sahara  of  forgetfulness — blank,  bleak, 
barren — swallowed  up  in  oblivion.  But  here  and 
there  gleam  little  green  spots  of  memory,  little  oases 
in  the  midst  of  the  mighty  desert  of  the  past.  How 
is  this?  The  things  which  we  remember  are  the 
things  which  we  attend  to.  Talk  to  an  old  man  about 
his  past  life,  and  you  will  find  that  the  events  of  the 
last  year  he  but  dimly  remembers ;  but  when  he 
speaks  of  his  boyhood,  the  incidents  of  the  time  crowd 
themselves  upon  him  as  though  they  had  happened 
but  yesterday.  In  that  far-off  happy  time,  when  his 
heart  was  light  and  his  mind  was  free  from  care,  the 
most  trivial  events  received  a  degree  of  attention 
suflScient  to  stamp  them  on  his  memory  forever. 


I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI.OGY.  79 

What  we  recollect  depends  upon  what  we  attend 
to.  (Recollecting  is  remembering  by  an  effort  of  will. 
All  recollecting  is  remembering,  but  all  remembering 
is  not  recollecting.  Recollecting  is  a  kmd  of  remem- 
bering.) What  do  you  do  when  you  try  to  recall  the 
name  of  a  friend  which  has  slipped  your  memory  for 
the  moment?  You  think  of — attend  to  the  thought 
of — how  he  looks,  of  his  dress,  of  some  peculiarity  in 
his  manner,  of  the  first  letter  of  his  name,  of  some 
place  where  you  saw  him,  of  something  connected 
with  him — until,  by  and  by,  his  name  flashes  into 
your  mind.  All  you  did,  you  notice,  was  to  attend  to 
certain  thoughts  in  your  mind. 

What  conclusions  you  reach  depend  upon  what 
you  attend  you.  To  Newton,  sitting  in  his  garden, 
the  fall  of  an  apple  suggested  the  law  of  gravitation. 
Why?  Because  he  fixed  his  attention  upon  the  re- 
semblance between  the  fall  of  the  apple  from  the  tree 
and  the  revolution  of  the  moon  around  the  earth. 
The  chief  difference  between  the  man  of  great  reason- 
ing powers  and  the  ordinary  man  is  that  the  former 
notices  remote  resemblances — resemblances  that  es- 
cape the  attention  of  the  latter. 

What  we  feel  depends  upon  attention.  The  same 
author  already  quoted  from  (Carpenter)  gives  some  re- 


8o  l^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.OGY. 

markable  illustrations  of  this :  The  celebrated  Ger- 
man mathematician,  Gauss,  while  engaged  in  one  of 
his  most  profound  investigations,  was  interrupted  by 
a  servant,  who  told  him  that  his  wife  (to  whom  he  was 
known  to  be  deeply  attached,  and  who  was  suffering 
from  a  severe  illness)  was  worse.  "  He  seemed  to 
hear  what  was  said,  but  either  he  did  not  comprehend 
it  or  immediately  forgot  it,  and  went  on  with  his 
work.  After  some  little  time,  the  servant  came  again 
to  say  that  his  mistress  was  much  worse,  and  to  beg 
that  he  would  come  to  her  at  once ;  to  which  he  re- 
plied, 'I  will  come  presently.'  Again  he  relapsed  into 
his  previous  train  of  thought,  entirely  forgetting  the 
intention  he  "had  expressed,  most  probably  without 
having  distinctly  realized  to  himself  the  import  either 
of  the  communication  or  of  his  answer  to  it.  For  not 
long  afterwards  when  the  servant  came  again  and  as- 
sured him  that  his  mistress  was  dying,  and  that  if  he 
did  not  come  immediately  he  would  probably  not  find 
her  alive,  he  lifted  up  his  head  and  calmly  replied : 
'Tell  her  to  wait  until  I  come' — a  message  he  had 
doubtless  often  before  sent  when  pressed  by  his  wife's 
request  for  his  presence  while  he  was  similarly  en- 
gaged." 

What  we  will  likewise  depends   upon   attention. 


I^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  8 1 

Suppose  a  boy  has  a  lesson  to  get,  and  another  boy 
invites  him  to  go  fishing.  Will  lie  go  or  will  he  stay 
and  get  his  lesson  ?  That  depends  on  what  he  attends 
to.  If  he  allows  his  mind  to  dwell  on  the  fun  he  will 
have,  if  he  does  not  permit  himself  to  think  o^  the 
consequences  of  neglecting  his  work,  he  will  go.  But 
if  he  keeps  his  mind  firmly  fixed  on  the  consequences; 
if  he  vividly  realizes  the  displeasure  of  his  parents,  the 
disapprobation  of  his  teacher,  the  probability  of  losing 
his  place  in  his  class,  he  will  stay. 

This  brief  survey  will  enable  us  to  form  some  idea 
of  the  importance  of  the  part  which  attention  plays  in 
our  mental  life.  I  think  you  see  that  the  chief  differ- 
ence between  the  educated  and  the  uneducated  man  is 
the  greater  capacity  of  the  former  for  clo.se,  con- 
tinuous, concentrated  attention.  Some  writers  in- 
deed have  gone  so  far  as  to  say  that  genius  depends 
entirely  on  the  power  to  concentrate  the  attention. 
Newton  thought  that  the  sole  difference  between  him- 
self and  ordinary  men  consisted  in  his  greater  power 
of  attention.  This,  I  think,  is  an  exaggeration.  But 
however  this  may  be,  I  think  that  the  importance  of 
training  the  attention  can  scarcely  be  over-estimated. 

How  can  we  train  the  attention  of  our  pupils? 
Precisely  as  we  cultivate  any  other  power  of  their 


82  I,ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI*OGY. 

minds — by  getting  them  to  attend.  Our  pupils  learn 
to  observe  by  observing,  and  to  think  by  thinking,  and 
to  attend  by  attending.  We  never  make  the  mistake 
of  assuming  that  our  pupils  have  a  high  degree  of 
reasoning  power  when  they  first  go  to  school — that 
the  J'  are  capable  of  solving  diflacult  problems  in 
arithmetic,  or  understanding  abstract  statements  in 
grammar — and  it  is  just  as  absurd  for  us  to  suppose 
that  they  are  capable  of  continuous  attention,  and  3^et 
we  are  prone  to  do  that.  "  Because  people  are  atten- 
tive, when  strong  interest  is  roused" — says  Edward 
Thring — "  there  is  a  common  idea  that  attention  is 
natural,  and  inattention  a  culpable  fault.  But  the 
boy's  mind  is  much  like  a  frolicking  puppy,  always  in 
motion,  restless,  but  never  in  the  same  position  two 
minutes  together,  when  really  awake.  Naturally  his 
body  partakes  of  this  unsettled  character.  Attention 
is  a  lesson  to  be  learned,  and  quite  as  much  a  matter 
of  training  as  any  other  lesson.  A  teacher  will  be 
saved  much  useless  friction  if  he  acknowledges  this 
fact,  and  instead  of  expecting  attention  which  he  will 
not  get,  starts  at  once  with  the  intention  of  teaching 
it."  How  can  he  teach  it  ?  That  question  it  is  of  the 
utmost  importance  for  us  to  be  able  to  answer. 


l^eSSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.O(JY.  8^ 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Show  (a)  that  the  sensations  of  which  we  are  conscious 
depend  upon  attention ;  (d)  that  what  we  perceive  depends 
upon  attention ;  (c)  that  what  we  remember  depends  upon 
attention  ;  (d)  that  what  we  recollect  depends  upon  attention ; 
{e)  that  what  we  believe  depends  upon  attention ;  {/)  that 
what  we  feel  depends  upon  attention ;  {^)  that  what  we  will 
depends  upon  attention. 

2.  Illustrate  your  answers  from  your  own  experience. 

3.  Illustrate  the  diflference  between  remembering  and 
recollecting. 

4.  How  is  the  power  of  attention  to  be  acquired? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  "  The  botanist  sees  much  in  a  plant ;  the  horse-dealer 
in  a  horse;  the  musician  hears  muchiu  a  piece  of  orchestral 
music,  of  whose  presence  in  the  sense-perception  the  layman 
has  no  idea.  From  the  same  story  each  hearer  interprets 
something  different;  out  of  the  same  laws  each  party  inter- 
prets its  right ;  the  same  turn  of  battle  is  proclaimed  by  both 
armies  as  a  victory ;  out  of  the  same  book  of  nature  the 
different  readers,  men  and  people,  have  gathered  the  most 
diverse  things."  (Volkmann.)  How  would  you  explain  these 
facts  ? 

2.  Account  for  the  trvith  embodied  in  the  proverb, "  There 
are  none  so  blind  as  those  that  won'i  see." 

3.  Account  for  the  use  of  mind  in  the  following  sentence: 
"  I  can't  put  my  mind  on  anything  to-day." 


84  I,SSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

LESSON   IX. 

ATTENTION. 

T  N'  the  last  lesson  I  tried  to  make  it  clear  that  our 
-■-  entire  mental  life  is  controlled  by  attention,  in 
order  that  we  may  realize  that  the  beginning  of  teach- 
ing is  getting  the  attention  of  our  pupils,  and  that  the 
end  of  education  is  the  developing  of  powers  of  at- 
tention, and  directing  those  powers  into  right  chan- 
nels. An  inattentive  mind  is  an  absent  mind ;  and,  as 
Thring  remarks,  a  teacher  "might  as  well  stand  up  and 
solemnly  set  about  giving  a  lesson  to  the  clothes  of  the 
class,  whilst  the  owners  were  playing  cricket,  as  to  the 
so-called  class"  if  they  were  inattentive.  Moreover, 
as  the  character  of  the  mind  depends  upon  the  things 
it  attends  to,  and  the  manner  in  which  it  attends  to 
them,  evidently  the  object  of  education  is  to  develop 
the  power  of  attending  to  the  right  things  in  the  right 
way. 

But  what  is  attention?  When  you  are  reading  an 
interesting  book,  you  are  scarcely  conscious,  if  at  all,  of 
the  .sensations  of  pressure  produced  by  your  chair ; 
carriages  and  wagons  are  clattering  along  the  street, 
but  you  do  not  note  them  ;  various  objects  are  directly 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  85 

before  you,  but  you  do  not  see  them.  Indeed,  you  are 
but  dim)y  conscious  of  the  sensations  produced  by  the 
very  type  of  the  book  you  are  reading.  But  the 
thoughts  called  to  j'our  mind  by  your  book  stand  out 
clearly  and  conspicuously  in  your  consciousness — 
every  feature,  as  it  were,  sharply  defined.  The  act  of 
the  mind  by  which  certain  facts  in  our  experience  are 
thus  emphasized  and  made  prominent  is  called  at- 
tention. Attention,  then,  viay  be  defined  as  that  act  of 
the  mind  by  ivhich  2ve  bring  into  clear  consciousness  any 
snbjeot  or  object  before  the  mind.  When  you  say  to 
your  pupils  "Give  me  your  attention,"  you  mean  that 
you  want  them  to  stop  thinking  of  the  game  they 
played  at  recess,  of  the  book  they  read  last  night,  of 
everything  except  what  5''OU  are  saying.* 

*"  Clear  consciousness  may  be  thought  as  the  circle  of 
those  concepts " — experiences — "upon  which  attention  rests. 
Experience  shows  us  that  this  circle,  like  the  pupil  of  the  eye, 
can  be  extended  or  contracted  within  certain  rather  wide 
limits.  The  greatest  narrowing  occurs  when  we  concentrate 
our  attention  upon  a  single  object — as,  for  example,  v.-hen  we 
become  absorbed  in  thought,  or  narrowly  observe  an  outward 
phenomenon ;  the  greatest  extension  takes  place  when  we 
widen  the  bounds  of  the  narrow  consciousness  to  its  greatest 
extent,  in  which  case  there  would  be  really  no  concentration 
of  mind  and  no  attention.  It  is  apparent  that  the  width  of  the 
circle  is  indirectly  proportioned  to  the  clearness  of  its  single 
points — i.  e.y  that  our  attention  is  so  much  the  less  intensive 
the  more  extensive  it  is," — Lindner's  Psycholozy>  paee  is. 


86  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

Making  another  study  of  our  experience,  we  find 
that  there  are  two  kinds  of  attention.  You  are  reading 
a  difficult  and  not  very  interesting  book,  when  some 
one  in  the  next  room  begins  to  sing  your  favorite 
song.  You  do  your  best  to  keep  your  attention  on 
your  book,  but  your  mind  wanders  to  the  song  in  spite 
of  you.  Or  you  go  to  a  lecture  just  after  reading  a 
letter  that  contained  some  very  good  news.  You  try  to 
listen  to  the  lecture,  but  the  thought  of  the  letter  per- 
sists in  dragging  your  inind  av.-ay.  In  both  these  cases 
you  are  conscious  of  two  very  different  kinds  of  atten- 
tion— attention  depending  upon  the  will,  or  vol- 
untary attention,  and  attention  independent  of  the 
will,  or  non-voluntary  attention. 

We  can  see  the  difference  between  them  more 
clearly,  perhaps,  if  we  bear  in  mind  that,  in  the  case  of 
non- voluntary  attention,  there  is  but  one  thing  that  in- 
fluences the  mind — the  thing  attended  to ;  while  in 
voluntary  attention  there  are  two — the  thing  attended 
to,  and  some  reason  or  motive  for  attending  to  it. 
When  you  listen  to  a  song  simply  because  you  like  it, 
you  attend  involuntarily ;  when  you  keep  your  mind 
fixed  upon  a  book  by  an  effort  of  will,  you  attend  vol- 
untarily. In  the  first  ca.se,  there  are  but  two  things 
concerned — your  mind  and  the  song ;  in  the  second, 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  87 

there  are  three — your  mind  and  the  book,  and  some 
reason  or  motive  for  attending  to  it.  In  the  first  case, 
you  attend  because  of  the  attraction  which  the  song 
nas  for  your  mind  directly ;  in  the  second,  you  attend 
rot  because  of  any  attraction  which  the  book  has  for 
your  mind,  but  because  of  its  relation  to  somethhig  else 
that  attracts  you  directly,  as  the  desire  to  improve. 
N"on-voluntary  attention,  then,  is  that  attention  which 
results  from  the  infiueiice  exerted  upon  the  mind  by  the 
thing  attended  to,  in  and  0 f  itself  ;  voluntary  attention  is 
that  which  results  from  the  influence  exerted  tipon  the 
mind,Hot  by  the  thing  attended  to,  butbythehiowlcdge  of 
its  relation  to  somethi7tg  else  that  attracts  the  mind  in 
and  of  itself  . 

It  is  evident  that  voluntary  attention  is  impossible 
without  some  variety  of  experience  and  some  mental 
development.  To  attend  voluntarily,  we  must  perceive 
relations ;  and  to  perceive  relations,  the  mind  must 
have  had  experience,  and  must  be  developed  enough 
to  interpret  that  experience.  A  bath  may,  almost  from 
the  beginning,  give  a  child  pleasant  sensations.  But 
his  mind  must  be  developed  enough  to  perceive  the 
relations  between  the  preparations  for  his  bath  and 
the  bath  before  the  sight  of  the  former  can  give  him 
pleasure.     Moreover,  it  is  evident  that  the  child  must 


88  I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

not  only  have  had  experience  of  relations  m  order  to 
regard  one  thing  as  the  sign  of  another  ;  he  must  have 
not  only  some  development  of  intellect  to  be  able  to 
connect  things  together,  but  also  some  development 
of  his  capacity  for  feeling,  in  order  to  be  able  to  form 
ideas  of  things  desirable  in  themselves.  When  the 
child  is  able  to  form  the  idea  of  a  thing  desirable  in 
itself,  and  to  see  the  connection  between  such  a  thing 
and  someting  undesirable,  the  latter  begins  to  be  in- 
teresting because  of  its  relation  to  the  former — the  con- 
ditions of  voluntary  attention  exist. 

This  analysis  of  the  circumstances  under  which 
voluntary  attention  is  possible  prepares  us  to  antici- 
pate what  observation  confirms — that  very  young 
children  are  incapable  of  voluntary  attention.  In- 
deed, it  seems  probable  that  in  the  first  days  of  a 
child's  life  there  is  no  attention  of  any  kind.  The 
mental  life  of  a  new-born  child  seems  to  consist  of  a 
mass  of  confused  sensations,  none  of  them  coming  into 
clear  and  distinct  consciousness,  because  none  of  them 
are  attended  to.  But  the  quality  of  some  of  its  sensa- 
tions, their  character  as  pleasant  or  painful,  causes  the 
sensations  that  possess  it  to  be  emphasized  in  the 
child's  experience.  Bain  well  says  that  "enjoyment, 
immediate  and  incessant,  is  a  primary  vocation  of  the 


LESSONS    IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  89 

iufaut  mind."  "  In  the  presence  of  the  more  enjoyable, 
the  less  enjoyable  is  disregarded."  "Attention  lasts 
so  long  as  enjoyment  lasts,  and  no  longer."-"-  So 
far  as  a  child  is  under  the  influence  of  pleasure  alone, 
these  statements  are  true  without  qualification.  But 
pain  has  fully  as  strong  a  hold  on  attention  as  pleas- 
ure. Moreover,  as  the  same  author  remarks,  "In- 
tensity of  sensation,  whether  pleasant  or  not,  is  a 
power."  A  bright  light,  a  loud  noise,  "take  the  at- 
tention by  storm."  But  in  considering  the  effect  of  in- 
tensity of  sen.sations  upon  attention,  we  must  bear  in 
mind  that  the  greater  their  relative  intensity — the 
greater,  in  other  words,  the  contrast  between  the  sen- 
sation and  the  other  experiences  of  the  child — the 
.stronger  will  be  its  influence  in  attracting  his  at- 
tention. A  remark  made  in  an  ordinary  tone,  for  ex- 
ample, when  it  breaks  in  upon  absolute  stillness,  will 
attract  attention  more  strongly  than  one  made  in  a 
very  loud  tone  in  the  mid.st  of  noise  and  confusion. 

Under  the  influence  of  these  two  cause.s — the 
quality  of  sensations  or  their  character  as  pleasurable 
or  painful — and  their  intensity,  absolute  and  relative, 
the  child's  power  of  attention  develops  with  wonderful 
rapidity. 

*  Bain's  "  Education  as  a  Science,"  page  179. 


go  lv»SSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

As  long  as  he  is  capable  only  of  non-voluntary  at- 
tention, he  is  at  the  mercy  of  his  impressions.  As  the 
course  of  a  stream  depends  upon  the  slope  of  the 
ground,  so  the  direction  of  his  attention  depends  upon 
the  attractiveness  of  his  sensations. 

But  the  exercise  of  non-voluntary  attention  de- 
velops the  power  to  attend  voluntarily.  Every  exer- 
ercise  of  non-voluntary  attention  makes  that  kind  of 
attention  easier.  Sensations  less  and  less  intense  — 
sensations  whose  pleasurable  or  painful  character  is 
less  and  less  pronounced — have  power  to  attract  it,  in 
accordance  with  the  universal  law  of  the  mind  that  ex- 
ercise develops  power.  While  the  child's  power  of 
non-voluntary  attention  is  in  this  way  increasing,  his 
growing  experience  is  leading  him  to  form  ideas  of 
things  he  desires,  and  to  perceive  the  relation  between 
the  things  that  give  him  pleasure  and  the  means  of 
gratifying  his  desires.  When  this  relation  is  clearly 
perceived,  all  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention 
exist. 

Probably  the  first  exercise  of  distinctively  volun- 
tary attention  usually  occurs  when  the  child  is  from 
three  to  six  months  old.  Professor  Preyer  reports  an 
instructive  experiment  as  made  by  Professor  I^indner 
upon  his  little  daughter,  twenty-six  weeks  old,  which 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  9I 

experiment  proves  conclusively  that  the  child  was  ex- 
ercising voluntarj'  attention: 

"While  the  child,  at  this  age,  was  taking  milk  as 
she  lay  in  the  cradle,  the  bottle  took  such  a  slant  that 
she  could  not  get  anything  to  suck.    She  now  tried  to 
direct  the  bottle  with  her  feet,  and  finally  raised  it  by 
means  of  them  so  dexterou.sly  that  she  could  drink 
conveniently.  This  action  was  manifestly  no  imitation  ; 
it  can  not  have  depended  upon  a  mere  accident ;  for 
v/hen,  at  the   next  feeding,  the  bottle  is  purposely  so 
placed  that  the  child  can  not  get  anything  without  the 
help  of  hands  or  feet,  the  same  performance  takes  place 
as  before.   Then,  on  the  following  day,  when  the  child 
drinks  iu  the  same  Vv'ay,  I  prevent  her  from  doing  so 
by  removing  her  feet  from  the  bottle,  but  she  at  once 
makes  use  of  them  again  as  regulators  for  the  flow  of 
the  milk,  as  dexterously  and  surely  as  if  the  feet  were 
made  on  purpose  for  such  use.     If  it  follows  from  this 
that  the  child  acts  with  deliberation  long  before  it  uses 
language  in  the  proper  sense,  it  also  appears  how  im- 
perfect and  crude  the  deliberation  is,  for  my  «hild 
drank  her  milk  in    this  awkward  fashion  for  three 
whole  months,  until  she  at  last  made  the  discovery  one 
day  that,  after  all,  the  hands  are  much  better  adapted 
to  service  of  this  sort.     I  had  given  strict  orders  to 


92  I^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

those  about  her  to  let  her  make  this  advance  of  her- 
self." 

We  must  not  forget  to  note  that  the  conditions 
of  voluntary  attention  were  completely  fulfilled  in 
this  case,  and  that  it  was  only  through  this  that  the 
child's  action  was  possible.  If  the  child  had  not 
known  by  experience  the  relation  between  certain 
movements  and  the  effects  of  those  movements,  she 
would  not  have  been  able  to  attend  to  those  move- 
ments— in  themselves  uninteresting — in  order  to  get 
hold  of  her  bottle.  And  if  her  experience  had  not 
enabled  her  to  form  an  idea  of  her  bottle  as  a  thing 
that  gave  her  pleasure,  it  would  not  have  been 
possible  for  her  to  fix  her  attention  upon  certain 
movements  as  a  means  of  experiencing  that  pleasure. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Why  is  it  so  important  for  you  to  know  the  conditions 
of  attention  ? 

2.  Illustrate  and  define  the  two  kinds  of  attention. 

3.  State    and     illustrate     the    conditions    of    voluntar}' 
attention. 

4.  Show  that  these  conditions  can  not  be  fulfilled  in  the 
case  of  a  very  young  child. 

5.  Describe  as  clearly  as  you  can  the  consciousness  of  a 
new  born  child. 

6.  What  are  the  two  causes  of  non-voluntary  attention  in 
a  child's  experience  ? 


LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  93 

7.  Show  how  the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention  are 
gradually  developed. 

8.  Analyze  the  voluntary  attention  exercised  by  Professor 
Lindner's  child  for  the  purpose  of  showing  that  the  condi- 
tions of  voluntary  attention  were  fulfilled. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Account  for  the  miser's  love  of  money. 

2.  Account  for  the  knowledge  of  Professor  Lindner's 
child. 

3.  Make  a  study  of  any  children  you  know  of  from  two 
or  three  months  to  six  or  seven  years  of  age  in  order  to 
ascertain  (i)  the  kind  of  objects  that  attract  their  non- 
voluntary attention  ;  and  (2)  the  lines  of  interest  that  control 
their  voluntary  attention  after  they  are  capable  of  exercis- 
ing it. 

4.  President  G.  Stanley  Hall  says  :  "  It  is  a  striking  fact 
that  nearly  every  great  teacher  in  the  history  of  education 
who  has  spoken  words  that  have  been  heeded  has  lived  for 
years  in  the  closest  personal  relations  to  children,  and  has  had 
the  sympathy  and  tact  that  gropes  out,  if  it  can  not  see  clearly, 
the  laws  of  juvenile  development  and  lines  of  childish 
interest."  {a)  Who  are  some  of  the  great  tecichers  of  whom 
he  speaks  ?  (b)  In  what  way  do  you  think  their  personal  rela- 
tions to  children  were  helpful  to  them  ?  (r)  Do  you  know  any 
important  educational  questions  that  can  be  best  solved  by  a 
careful  and  systematic  study  of  children  ?  {d)  Why  is  it  im- 
portant to  know  the  "laws  of  juvenile  development?"  (c)  Why 
the  lines  of  childish  interests  ? 

5.  Professor  Preyer's  child  gazed  steadily  at  his  own 
image  in  the  glass  when  he  was  about  four  months  old.  Was 
that  a  case  of  voluntary  attention  ? 


94  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON   X. 


ATTENTION. 


/^^OMPAYRE  says  that  the  way  to  teach  the  child 
^-^  to  be  attentive  is  to  supply  the  conditions  of  at- 
tention. Nothing  can  be  truer.  But  in  order  to  do 
this,  as  he  remarks,  we  need  to  know  what  the  con- 
ditions of  attention  are. 

To  ascertain  the  conditions  of  non-voluntary  at- 
tention was  the  object  of  the  last  lesson.  We  did,  in- 
deed, confine  our  investigations  to  the  first  years  of 
childhood;  but,  as  G.  Stanley  Hall  remarks,  "the  liv- 
ing, playing,  learning  child  .  .  .  embodies  a  truly 
elementary  Psychology."  If,  then,  we  Avere  right  in 
concluding  that  the  two  lav^^s  of  non-voluntary  at- 
tention— the  two  conditions  upon  which  it  depends  in 
childhood—  are  the  pleasurable  or  painful  character  of 
the  child's  experiences,  and  their  intensity,  we  have 
reason  to  hope  that  we  know  the  conditions  that  we 
need  to  supply  in  order  to  get  non-voluntary  at- 
tention, no  matter  what  grade  of  pupils  we  are  dealing 
with. 

I  think  we  .shall  be  quite  sure  of  this  if,  pursuing 


WESSONS   IN    PSVCHOLOGY.  9$ 

our  usual  course,  we  make  a  study  of  our  own  ex- 
perience and  the  experience  of  those  about  us.  Why 
do  you  find  it  easier  to  listen  to  a  speaker  when  you 
can  see  him  than  when  you  can  not  ?  Because  when 
you  see  him  you  have  a  much  more  vivid — intense — im- 
pression of  him  than  you  have  when  you  do  not.  Why 
is  it  that  to  see  a  dentist  extract  the  tooth  of  a  friend 
affects  you  so  much  more  strongly  thank  to  think  of 
the  same  thing?  Because  the  perception  of  a  person 
in  pain  is  a  much  more  vivid  experience  than  the 
thought  of  one.  Why  is  it  that  pupils  find  it  so  much 
harder  to  attend  to  a  teacher  who  speaks  in  a  drawl- 
ing, monotonous  tone,  than  to  one  who  speaks  in  a 
quick,  lively,  animated  manner?  Because  the  latter 
makes  more  definite  impressions  upon  the  mind.  The 
monotonous  speaker,  moreover,  is  an  unemphatic 
speaker ;  and  in  the  absence  of  emphasis — of  impres- 
sions having  the  character  of  intensity — there  is 
nothing  to  particularly  attract  our  attention  to  the 
leading  idea,  so  that  it  is  much  harder  to  learn  what 
that  idea  is.  Why  is  it  that  you  can  remember  an  ar- 
gument that  you  understand  so  much  better  than  you 
can  one  that  you  do  not  understand  ?  Because,  when 
you  understand  an  argument,  you  perceive  the  re- 
lations between  its  various  parts ;  and  the  perception 


96  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  relations  is  a  source  of  pleasure,  and  therefore  a 
stimulus  of  attention,  and  hence  a  help  to  memory. 

It  appears,  then,  that  in  learning  the  conditions  of 
non-voluntary  attention  in  the  early  years  of  a  child's 
life,  we  have  learned  what  they  are  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  life.     Some  writers  speak  of  novelty  as  a 
condition  of  non-voluntary  attention,  and  under  some 
circumstances  it  undoubtedly  is.  But  why  ?    Because 
the  novel  is  the  unexplained,  and  the  unexplained  ex- 
cites our  curiosity.     But  curiosity  stimulates  thought, 
and  the  exercise  of  the    power  of  thinking,  under 
normal  circumstances,  is  a  source  of  pleasure.     In  a 
word,  the  novel  attracts  our  attention  because  of  the 
pleasurable  character  of   the  experiences  connected 
with  it.   To  prove  this,  we  only  need  to  recall  the  fact 
that,  when  we  see  a  novel  thing  under  such  circum- 
stances as  not  to  excite  our  curiosity,  it  does  not  at- 
tract our  attention.  To  the  mind  of  a  man  who  knows 
nothing  of  machinery,  a  complicated  machine,  however 
novel,  offers  no  attraction.     Indeed,  a  man  who  knew 
nothing  of  machinery  would  not  know,  without  being 
told,  that  a  particular  machine  was  novel,  unless  its 
new  features  were  of  a  very  striking  character.     His 
ignorance  of  machinery  would  make  it  impossible  for 
him  to  see  the  difference  between  the  novel  machine 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  97 

and  those  he  was  in  the  habit  of  seeing.  If  its  new 
features  were  of  such  a  striking  character  that  he 
could  not  fail  to  notice  them,  he  would  regard  it  with 
a  sort  of  vague  wonder,  but  not  with  that  keen,  active 
curiosity  which  is  such  a  powerful  stimulus  to  the  at- 
tention. That  is  why  the  entirely  familiar  and  the 
entirely  unknown*  are  equally  destitute  of  interest. 
Neither  of  thera  offers  to  the  mind  a  problem  to  be 
solved  ;  neither  of  them  lures  to  exertion  with  the 
anticipation  of  a  conquest  over  difficulties.  The  en- 
tirely familiar  does  not  stimulate  thought  because  it 
is,  or  seems  to  be,  the  entirely  known ;  the  entirely 
unknown  does  not,  because  it  offers  to  the  mind 
nothing  that  it  can  take  hold  of.  It  is  like  a  new  ball 
of  string,  carefully  wound  up,  with  the  ends  so  well 
concealed  that  there  seems  no  way  of  beginning  to 
unwind  it. 

So,  again,  the  physical  conditions  of  attention  are 
insisted  on,  and,  as  we  all  know  by  experience,  with 
entire  propriety.  When  you  are  sick  or  tired,  you  can 
not  attend  as  you  can  when  you  are  well  and  rested. 
But  why  ?   Because  things  do  not  interest  you  so  much. 


*  Of  course  it  will  be  understood  that  I  use  the  phrase 
"entirely  unknown"  relatively.  Strictly  speaking,  the  en- 
tirely unknown  could  not  come  before  the  mind  at  all. 


98  LBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.OGY. 

The  relations  between  body  and  mind  are  so  close  that 
the  mind  is  incapable  of  intense  interest  when  the 
body  is  exhausted.  That  attention,  then,  is  strongly 
influenced  by  bodih^  conditions  is  indeed  true  ;  but  it 
is  no  new  law ;  it  is  simply  a  case  under  the  law  al- 
ready considered,  that  that  which  interests  us,  whether 
by  its  pleasurable  or  painful  character,  attracts  at- 
tention. 

We  may  conclude,  then,  that  we  have  found  what 
we  are  in  search  of,  so  far  as  non-voluntary  attention 
is  concerned — the  conditions  which  we  must  supply  in 
order  to  get  it. 

lyet  us  now  see  how  the  case  is  altered  by  volun- 
tary attention.  As  a  matter  of  experience,  how  does 
the  will  influence  attention? 

Going  to  your  room,  you  find  a  half  dozen  books 
on  your  table.  There  is  "Vanity  Fair,"  a  volume 
of  Tennyson's  poems,  Stanley's  "Dark  Continent," 
"Looking  Backward,"  a  history  of  England,  and  a 
text-book  on  Geometry.  Which  will  you  read?  If 
you  were  capable  only  of  non-voluntary  attention,  you 
would  read  the  one  which  attracted  your  attention 
most  strongly.  There  would  be  a  struggle  between 
competing  attractions,  and  the  strongest  would  win 
the  day.     But  through  the  influence  of  your  will  you 


IvBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  99 

may  give  your    attention    to   precisely  that  su eject 
which  you  like  least.  You  don't  like  mathematics,  but 
as  you  are  going  to  be  examined  in  geometry,  you  be- 
gin to  study  that.     Can  you  keep  your  attention  on  it 
.yzw/Zy  by  an  effort  of  will?     Certainly  not.     The  will 
simply  determines  the  direction  in  which  the  mind 
looks  ;  but  if  it  continues  to  look  that  way,  it  must  find 
something  to  interest  it — something  to  attract  its  non- 
voluntary attention.      The  will    determines,  in    this 
case,  that  the  attention  shall  be  put  on  geometry; 
but  if  it  stays  there,  it  is  because  the  subject  develops 
some  interest  for  the  mind — stimulates  its  non-volun- 
tary attention.     Sully  puts  this  very  clearly  :  "By  an 
act  of  will  I   may  resolve    to   turn  my  attention  to 
something — say  a  passage  in  a  book.    But  if,  after  this 
preliminary  process  of  adjustment  of  the  mental  eye, 
the  object  opens  up  no  interesting  phase,  all  the  will- 
ing in  the  world  will  not  produce  a  calm,  settled  state 
of  concentration.     The  will  introduces  mind  and  ob- 
ject— it  can  not  force  an  attachment  between  them. 
No  compulsion  of  attention  ever  succeeded  in  making 
a  young  child  cordially  embrace  and  appropriate,  bj'' 
an  act  of  concentration,  an  unsuitable  and  therefore 
uninteresting  subject.     We  thus  see  that  voluntary  at- 
tention is  not  removed    from    the  sway  of  interest. 


lOO  1.ESS0NS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

What  the  will  does  is  to  determine  the  kind  of  interest 
that  shall  prevail  at  the  moment." 

The  last  sentence  states  the  work  done  by  the 
will  in  attention  very  exactly.  It  creates  no  new  in- 
fluence; it  simply  determines  which  of  pre-existing 
influences  shall  have  control  over  the  mind.  Co- 
operating with  a  pre-existing  influence,  the  will  can 
make  a  weaker  one  prevail  over  a  stronger.  Without 
a  prevailing  influence  to  work  on,  the  will  is  as  power- 
less as  a  lever  without  a  fulcrum. 

But,  upon  second  thought,  have  we  not  put  this 
too  strongly?  .  Does  voluntary  attention  always  re- 
quire a /r.?-existing  influence  in  order  to  be  effective? 
I  do  not  think  so.  If  the  will  resolutely  turns  the 
gaze  of  the  mind  upon  a  certain  subject,  points  of  in- 
terest, before  unnoticed,  may  present  themselves.  The 
interest  which  alone  makes  concentration  of  mind  pos- 
sible may  result  from  the  exercise  of  the  will,  instead 
of  existing  before  it.  As  the  persuasions  of  a  friend 
may  induce  you  to  consent  to  be  introduced  to  a  per- 
son who  does  not  attract  you,  and  whom  you  think  you 
will  not  like,  so  the  exertion  of  the  will  maj-  induce 
3'ou  to  attend  to  what  you  otherwise  would  not  have 
attended  to,  because  it  revealed  no  attractions  to  such 
superficial  glances  a.s,  without  interest,  are  only  given, 


LfiSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  lOI 

except  in  voluntary  attention.  Precisely  as  your  new- 
acquaintance  may  develop  elements  of  attractiveness 
which  you  never  would  have  known  anything  about  if 
you  had  not  consented  to  an  introduction,  so  an  unin- 
teresting subject  may  become  interesting  under  the 
searching  gaze  of  voluntary  attention,  which  other- 
wise would  have  remained  uninteresting  forever.  And 
this  is  one  of  the  functions  of  voluntary  attention — to 
develop  interests,  to  make  us  acquainted  with  interest- 
ing subjects,  of  which  we  should  have  otherwise  re- 
mained ignorant. 

But  there  is  another,  of  quite  as  much  importance. 
What  we  call  concentration  of  thought  is  a  continuity 
of  attention  to  the  same  subject.  But  this  continuity' 
is  by  no  means  insured  when,  under  the  influence  of 
the  will,  the  interests  of  a  certain  subject  are  present 
to  the  mind.  If  the  will  relaxes  its  hold  upon  the  ac- 
tivities of  the  mind,  the  attention  is  liable  to  be  carried 
away  by  any  one  of  the  thousands  of  ideas  that  the 
laws  of  association  are  constantly  bringing  into  our 
minds.  As  you  use  your  will  to  give  your  attention  to 
geometry,  although  it  attracts  you  less  than  a  number 
of  other  subjects,  so,  if  you  really  study  it,  you  use 
your  will  to  prevent  your  mind  from  being  dragged 
away  from  it  by  the  interests  that  are  constantly  ini- 


I^SSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

portuning  you.  He  who  possesses  this  power  in  a  high 
degree  possesses  in  a  high  degree  the  power  of  volun- 
tary attention.  Thi3,  then,  is  another  function  of  vol- 
untary attention — to  give  steadiness  to  the  mind,  to 
prevent  it  from  going  capriciously  here  and  there  under 
the  influence  of  the  interests  that  happen  to  be  present 
at  the  particular  moment. 

If  the  interests  of  the  mind  are  the  chief  condition 
of  non-voluntary  attention,  and  if  voluntary  attention, 
to  have  any  educational  value,  must  start  from,  or  re- 
sult in,  interests,  we  can  put  the  two  questions  in 
which,  as  teachers,  we  are  interested,  in  a  more 
definite  form.  What  is  the  end  or  object  of  education? 
What  is  teaching?  The  object  of  education,  we  have 
said,  is  to  develop  the  pov/er  of  attending  to  the  right 
things  in  the  right  way  ;  to  teach  is  to  get  and  keep 
the  attention  of  our  pupils  by  bringing  their  minds 
into  contact  with  subjects  that  have  an  educational 
value.  The  one  is  the  goal — the  other  seems  the  path 
by  which  we  must  reach  it.  The  one  is  the  end — 
the  other  seems  the  means  by  which  we  must  attain  it. 
But  we  now  see  that  to  develop  the  power  to  attend  to 
the  right  things  in  the  right  way  is  to  develop  certain 
permanent  interests  in  the  mind,  and  to  give  it  the 
power  to  determine,  at  any  particular  time,  the  in- 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  I03 

terests  by  which  the  current  of  its  thoughts  shall  be 
directed.  We  see  also  that,  to  get  and  keep  the  at- 
tention of  our  pupils  by  bringing  their  minds  into  con- 
tact with  subjects  that  have  an  educational  value,  we 
must  make  those  subjects  interesting ;  we  must  give 
their  wills  a  fulcrum  upon  which  to  work.  We  may 
then  state  our  two  great  questions  in  this  form:  (i) 
How  can  we  develop  those  permanent  interests  that 
shall  induce  the  mind  to  attend  to  the  right  things  in 
the  right  way?  (2)  How  can  we  interest  our  pupils  in 
the  subjects  we  teach?  Stated  in  this  compact  form, 
we  see  that  we  can  not  answer  the  first  by  answering 
the  second.  Life  is  larger  than  the  school.  When  we 
have  done  all  we  can  to  make  the  subjects  they  study 
interesting  to  our  pupils,  the  interests  we  have  devel- 
oped will  have  to  compete  with  other  interests,  which 
the  work  of  the  school  touches  but  indirectly  and  re- 
motely. It  will  always  remain  possible  for  their  wills 
to  choose  to  foster  the  interests  that  check  the  growth 
of  those  we  wish  to  make  permanent.  Moreover,  the 
school  is  larger  than  the  recitation.  There  are  other 
influences — discipline,  for  example — which  we  can 
bring  to  bear  upon  the  will  besides  those  that  directly 
result  from  the  recitatiom. 


I04  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  are  the  two  conditions  of  non-voluntary  atten- 
tion in  the  case  of  children  ? 

2.  Show  that  they  are  universal  conditions  of  non- 
voluntary attention. 

3.  Why  is  it  that  novelty  sometimes  attracts  our  atten- 
tion and  sometimes  fails  to  do  it? 

4.  Show  that  the  influence  of  novelty  is  a  case  of  one  of 
the  two  conditions  already  discovered. 

5.  Show  that  the  influence  of  bodily  conditions  upon  the 
attention  is  not  a  distinct  law  of  attention. 

6.  State  and  illustrate  the  influence  of  the  will  upon 
attention. 

7.  What  are  the  two  functions  of  voluntary  attention .-' 

8.  What  is  the  most  definite  form  in  which  you  can  state 
the  two  great  questions  which  as  a  teacher  it  is  your  business 
to  answer? 

9.  What  is  the  difference  between  them  ? 

ID.    Why  is  it  so  hard  to  understand  unemphatic  reading? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  The  end  of  education  is  often  said  to  be  "  symmetrical 
development."  In  this  lesson  I  say  it  is  the  development  of 
certain  permanent  interests  in  the  mind,  etc.  Are  the  two 
answers  consistent  ? 

2.  "A  few  years  ago,  a  gentleman  brought  two  Eskimaux 
to  London — he  wished  to  amuse  and  at  the  same  time  to 
astonish  them  with  the  great  magnificence  of  the  metropolis. 
For  this  purpose,  after  having  equipped  them  like  English 
gentlemen,  he  took  them  out  one  morning  to  walk  through 
the  streets  of  Loudon.  They  walked  for  several  hours  in 
silence ;  they  expressed  neither  pleasure  nor  admiration  at 
anything  which  they  saw.    When  their  walk  was  ended,  they 


LESSONS   IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  105 

appeared  uucommonly  melancholy  and  stupified.  As  soon  as 
they  got  home,  they  sat  down  with  their  elbows  upon  their 
knees  and  hid  their  faces  between  their  hands.  The  only 
words  they  could  be  brought  to  utter  were,  '  Too  much  smoke 
—too  much  noise— too  much  houses — too  much  men— too 
much  everyihingl' " —  Bd^eworl/i's  Practical  Education. 
Account  for  the  state  ofviind  of  the  Indians. 

3.  Under  the  influence  of  the  intensity  of  his  interest, 
the  whole  mind  of  an  orator,  in  the  midst  of  an  oration,  is 
brought  to  bear  upon  his  subject.  Ideas  and  images  not 
connected  with  it  do  not  come  to  his  mind— as  though  for 
the  time  he  had  forgotten  everything  in  the  world  except  a 
certain  group  of  related  facts  and  ideas.  Is  this  concentra- 
tion of  thought  voluntary  or  involuntary  attention? 


I06  I,aSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

I.ESSON    XI. 
ATTENTION. 

WE  have  seen  that  voluntary  attention  is  not  "re- 
moved from  the  sway  of  interests,"  but  that, 
to  have  any  educational  value,  it  must  start  from  or 
lead  to  interests ;  that  the  two  functions  of  voluntary 
attention  are  (i)  the  development  of  interests  in  things 
that  would  never  give  us  pleasure  were  it  not  for  vol- 
untary attention;  and  (2)  the  development  of  the 
power  of  continuous  attention,  that  the  mind  may  di- 
rect its  own  energies — that  it  may  not  be  a  mere  in- 
strument, producing  nothing  but  inharmonious  sounds, 
because  played  upon  by  every  passing  impulse.  From 
this  point  of  view  we  were  able  to  see  that  the  object 
of  education  is  the  development  of  certain  permanent 
interests,  and  of  the  power  to  determine  the  course  of 
one's  activities;  also  that  true  teaching  consists  in 
bringing  the  mind  into  contact  with  subjects  that  have 
an  intellectual  value,  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  them 
interesting.  This  latter,  as  we  know,  is  another  way 
of  saying  that  true  teaching  consists  in  getting  and 
keeping  the  attention  of  our  pupils,  and  making  the 
right  use  of  it. 


I,»SSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY,  I»7 

Beginning,  then,  with  the  simpler  question — How 
can  we  get  and  keep   the   attention  of  our  pupils? 
Comenius  answered  that  question  with  remarkable 
completeness  nearly  three  hundred  years  ago.     In  his 
time  it  was  the  custom  to  teach  boys  separately,  or  not 
more  than  two  or  three  at  a  time.    He  contended  that 
a  lecturer  could  hold  the  attention  of  a  large  class  just 
as  well  (i)  "  by  always  bringing  before  his  pupils  some- 
thing pleasing  and  profitable ;  (2)  by  introducing  the 
subject  of  instruction  in  such  a  way  as  to  commend  it 
to  them,  or  by  stirring  their  intelligences  into  activity 
by  inciting  questions  regarding  it ;  (3)  by  standing  in 
a  place  elevated  above  the  class,  and  requiring  all  eyes 
to  be  fixed  on  him ;  (4)  by  aiding  attention  through 
the  representations  of  everything  to  the  senses,  as  far 
as  possible;  (5)  by  interrupting   his   instruction  by 
frequent  and  pertinent  questions— for  example,  'What 
have  I  just  said?'   (6)  if  the  boy  who  has  been  asked 
a  question  should  fail  to  answer,  by  leaping  to  the 
second,  third,  tenth,  thirtieth,  and  asking  the  answer 
without  repeating  the  question;  (7)  by  occasionally  de- 
manding an  answer  from  any  one  in  the  whole  class, 
and  thus  stirring  up  rivalrj' ;  (8)  by  giving  an  oppor- 
tunity to  any  one  to  ask  questions  when  the  lesson  is 
finished." 


Io8  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  hastiest  glance  at  these  rules  will  enable  us  to 
see  that  the  teacher  who  conforms  to  them  supplies 
the  conditions  of  both  voluntary  and  non-voluntary  at- 
tention ;  and  we  need  to  carefully  note  the  fact  that  we 
must  do  it  if  we  hope  to  get  and  keep  the  attention  of 
our  pupils.  A  teacher  who  imagines  that  his  work  is 
done  in  this  direction  when  he  interests  his  pupils — in 
other  words,  when  he  supplies  the  conditions  of  non- 
voluntary attention — is  sadly  mistaken.  He  can  not 
get  their  non- voluntary  attention  until  he  begins  to  in- 
terest them;  and  he  can  not  keep  it  afterwards  simply 
by  being  interesting.  Until  he  interests  them,  their 
attention,  so  far  as  it  is  non-voluntary,  will  be  given  to 
the  most  interesting  thing  that  happens  to  come  before 
their  minds.  After  he  interests  them,  instead  of  keep- 
ing their  attention  on  what  he  is  saying,  they  will  con- 
tinue to  think  about  some  interesting  thing  he  has 
said,  until  their  attention  is  attracted  by  something 
else. 

In  complying  with  a  part  of  the  first  rule — in 
bringing  before  our  pupils  something  pleasing — we 
are  evidently  supplying  the  conditions  of  non-volun- 
tary attention  by  the  matter  of  our  instruction ;  in 
complying  with  a  part  of  the  second — "stirring  their 
intelligences  to  activity  by  inciting  to  questions  re- 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  109 

garding  it" — we  are  doing  the  same  thing  by  the 
manner  of  our  instruction  ;  and  the  same  is  true  of  the 
fourth  and  eighth  rules. 

In  bringing  before  our  pupils  something  which  they 
feel  to  be  profitable  ;  in  teaching  it  so  as  to  commend 
it  to  them ;  in  occupying  a  position  where  we  can  see 
the  entire  class  (a  position  that  will  make  them  feel 
that  the  teacher  will  be  likely  to  know  if  they  permit 
their  minds  to  wander) ;  in  frequently  calling  upon 
them  to  reproduce  what  we  have  just  said ;  in  asking 
our  questions  promiscuously,  without  repeating  them, 
when  an  incorrect  answer  is  given — we  are  supplying 
the  conditions  of  voluntary  attention,  giving  them 
reasons  for  attending  apart  from  the  interest  of  the 
matter  to  which  we  wish  to  call  their  attention. 

Every  one  of  these  rules  for  getting  the  voluntary 
attention  of  pupils  is  important ;  but  I  wish  especially 
to  call  attention  to  two  or  three  of  them.  Of  the  fifth  I 
will  only  remark  that  no  teacher,  below  the  university, 
who  does  not  practice  it  habitually,  has  the  attention 
of  a  majority  of  his  pupils,  no  matter  what  grade  of 
pupils  he  teaches.  Moreover,  unless  some  such  rule 
is  observed,  it  is  hard  to  see  how  a  teacher  can  be 
.sure  that  his  pupils  undenstand  him.  We  shall  miss 
half  of  the  importance  of  the  first  rule  unless  we  bear 


no  I.BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

in  mind  that  when  we  can  not  see  our  pupils,  they  can 
not  see  us.  What  a  hindrance  that  is  to  attention  we 
shall  realize  if  we  try  to  listen  to  a  speaker  when  we 
can  not  see  him. 

But  it  is  of  the  first  and  second  rules  that  I  wish 
particularly  to  speak.     The  more  I  think  of  it,  the 
more  I  am  convinced  that  the  neglect  of  them  is  one 
of  the  principal  causes    not    only  of  inattention  in 
classes,  but  of  a  dislike  for  the  work  of  the  school  in 
general.     We  too  often  fail  to  inform  ourselves  of  the 
educational  value  of  the  subjects   we  teach.     It  too 
often  happens  that  the  best  reason  we  can  give  for 
teaching  geography,  grammar,  arithmetic,  etc.,  is  that 
we  were  taught  them.     Now,  when  we  don't  know 
why  we  require  our  pupils  to  study  this  and  that  sub- 
ject, is  it  any  wonder  that  our  pupils  don't  know  why 
they  are  required   to  study  them?     Boys  know  very 
well  that  they  could  spend  their  time  to  advantage  if 
they  could  use  it  as  they  liked.   They  could  go  fishing 
or  hunting  or  skating,  and  have  lots  of  fun.     They 
could  work  and  get  money,  and  have  more  fun.  These 
things  a  boy  knows.     Is  it  any  wonder  that  he  does 
not  like  to  go  to  school,  when  he  has  never  been  made 
to  feel  the  value  of  an  education?     Is  it  any  wonder 
that  he  makes  no  effort  to  keep  his  mind  from  wander- 


I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  Ill 

ing  "when  the  teacher  is  talking  about  a  lot  of  "stuflf," 
as  he  calls  it,  because  he  has  never  been  made  to  ap- 
preciate its  value?  "  Ishe  to  sit  and  toil  day  by  day,  and 
let  the  sun  shine  upon  hill  and  dale,  and  he  not  see  it? 
And  let  it  gleam  along  the  rivers,  and  glance  in  and 
out  of  the  forest  trees  with  scattered  joyousness,  and 
he  not  see  it?  Is  he  to  miss  the  freshness  of  the  air, 
the  games,  and  the  thousand  and  one  delights  that  pass 
through  the  kaleidoscope  of  the  boy  mind,  so  fertile  in 
fancy,  so  free?  And  all  for  what?"*  For  nothing,  so 
far  as  he  knows,  unless  he  has  been  made  to  feel  the 
value  of  an  education.  If  you  expect  him  to  work,  if 
you  expect  him  to  attend  to  you,  you  must  make  him 
understand,  so  far  as  you  can,  that  it  is  a  reasonable 
thing  for  him  to  do  what  you  require.  And  you  must 
make  him  realize  what  knowledge  costs.  Show  him  a 
map  of  Africa  made  twenty  years  ago,  and  show  him  a 
map  of  Africa  as  it  is  known  to-day.  Tell  him  of  the 
toil  and  privations  and  hardships  that  Livingstone 
underwent  to  make  the  difference.  Let  him  know, 
make  him  feel,  that  the  knowledge  which  he  can  get 
so  easily  at  school  is  the  "piled  up"  life  of  some  of  the 
greatest  and  noblest  men  of  the  race.  It  is  so  easy  to 
read  that  "  the  earth  is  round  because  men  have  sailed 

*Thring's  "Theory  and  Practice  of  Education." 


112  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

around  it."  But  Drake  and  Raleigh  and  the  other  men 
who  were  among  the  first  to  make  the  voyage  did  it  at 
the  risk  of  their  Hves.  Some  of  them,  leaving  pleasant 
homes  and  wives  and  children  that  they  loved,  exposed 
themselves  to  unknown  dangers — the  result  of  it  all  is 
a  single  line. 

But  if  we  put  Comenius'  rule  fully  into  practice, 
our  pupils  will  learu  to  value  education  not  merely  for 
what  it  will  brm^  them,  but  for  what  it  will  make 
them.  They  realize  the  difference  between  the  boy 
who  can  read  and  one  who  can't.  The  boy  who  can't 
read  sees  nothing  but  a  piece  of  paper  with  black  lines 
of  all  sorts  and  shapes  upon  it.  But  the  boy  who  can 
read  sees  not  merely  paper  with  letters  upon  it,  but  the 
very  mind  of  the  man  whose  thoughts  are  materialized 
on  the  page  before  him.  Make  him  feel  that  he  pos- 
sesses other  dormant  powers  that  you  are  trying  to  de- 
velop ;  make  him  feel  that  education  will  not  merely 
give  him  better  tools  to  use,  but  increase  his  power  and 
skill  in  using  them ;  make  him  feel  that  every  lesson 
you  assign  is  intended  to  lead  to  this  end,  and  he  will 
try  to  attend,  whether  he  succeeds  or  not. 

But  to  insure  that  his  efforts  will  be  successful,  we 
must  give  his  will  a  fulcrum  upon  which  to  work — we 
must  develop  interests. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  II3 

The  great  secret  of  interest  is  adaptation.  The  toys 
and  playthings  and  pictures  of  a  child  amuse  him  be- 
cause they  are  adapted  to  his  state  of  development — 
they  stimulate  him  to  exercise  his  powers.  What  we 
must  do  in  teaching,  if  we  expect  to  interest  our  pupils, 
is  to  set  them  to  do  something  that  they  are  able  to  do, 
in  order  that  they  may  acquire  the  power  to  do  what 
they  can  not  do.  We  should  constantly  be  striving  at 
every  stage  of  a  child's  development  to  learn  the  con- 
tents of  his  mind — to  make  an  inventory  of  his  ca- 
pacities, so  as  to  see  which  of  them  we  can  turn  to 
educational  account,  and  how.  And  here  again  we 
come  upon  the  fact  that  meets  us  at  every  turn  and 
corner  of  our  experience  in  teaching — the  necessity  of 
a  constant,  careful,  systematic  study  of  our  pupils,  if 
we  hope  for  the  best  success  in  teaching  them.  Unless 
we  know  them  thoroughly,  we  can  not  adapt  our  teach- 
ing to  them  perfectly. 

W^e  all  know  that  we  can  keep  the  attention  of  our 
pupils  better  by  asking  questions  than  we  can  by  doing 
all  the  talking  ourselves.  The  reason  is  found  in  the 
law  of  adaptation.  When  we  are  asking  questions  we 
are  making  the  utmost  use  of  the  impulses  of  curiosity 
and  activity.  Children  like  to  learn  things,  and  they 
like  to  act.  Ask  the  right  kind  of  questions,  and  you 
8 


114  LKSSONS  IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

make  them  conscious  of  their  ignorance — you  stimu- 
late their  curiosity.     But  here  again  the  necessity  of 
studying  the  minds  of  our  pupils  presents  itself.    The 
curiosity  of  little  children  is  very  different  from  that  of 
older  pupils.    A  child  asks  a  question,  and  before  you 
have  answered  it  he  asks  another  about  an  entirely 
different  subject.     His  question  was  the  result  of  in- 
voluntary attention ;  and  since  his  interest  in  things  in 
the  form  of  curiosity  is  very  slight,  like  a  bird  he  flits 
from  this  subject  to  that,  never  staying  with  one  thing 
a  minute  at  a  time.  But  this,  as  we  know,  is  one  of  the 
things  which  we  want  to  develop — this  power  of  at- 
tention.   So  you  will  try  to  help  him  attend  more  and 
more  closely  to  a  subject,  and   to  follow  out  a  line  of 
thought  more  and  more  persistently.    When  he  asks  a 
second  question  before  you  have  answered  the  first, 
you  will  neither  show  nor  feel  impatience — no  more 
than  a  mother  does  that  her  child  is  bom  without 
teeth.    You  will  ask  him    questions   about  the  first 
thing,  keeping  his  mind  upon  it  as  long  as  you  think 
it  safe,  learning  a  lesson  from  the  bird,  who  does  not 
encourage  her  young  to  make  long  flights  the  first 
time.    You  will  be  satisfied  if  you  can  make  his  curi- 
osity a  means  of  getting  him  to  think  a  little  and  learn 
a  little,  being  sure  that  in  this  way  you  can  deepen  it, 


I^KSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  II5 

and  so  get  him  to  think  more  closely  and  acquire  more 
knowledge. 

It  is  due  to  the  same  principle — that  what  is 
adapted  to  us  interests  us — that  to  pupils  the  most  in- 
teresting thing  is  the  manifestation  of  that  intense 
form  of  interest  in  the  teacher  that  we  call  enthusiasm. 
Arthur  Sidgwick  well  says:  "Whether  it  be  school 
lesson  or  subject  of  common  talk  out  of  school,  the  en- 
thusiast drags  the  boy's  mind  captive.  He  makes  him 
attend,  he  makes  him  interested,  he  makes  him  think. 
Without  trying  to  do  so,  he  makes  learning  seem 
attractive  and  delightful.  Boys  are  naturally  im- 
pressionable, and  enthusiasm  impresses;  they  are 
naturally  imitative,  and  whatever  they  see  a  man  keen 
about,  they  at  once  begin  to  excite  themselves 
about  it.  Whether  it  be  poetry,  history,  politics,  art, 
science,  natural  history,  or  archaeology,  the  enthusiast 
will  at  once  make  a  school  of  his  own  imitators  about 
him.  And  he  will  do  far  more  than  this.  He  will  lift 
boy  after  boy  out  of  the  barbarous  intellectual  at- 
mosphere in  which  the  natural  boy  lives  and  moves, 
and  make  him  conscious — though  it  be  only  dimly 
conscious — of  the  vast  world  of  interest  which  lies 
around  in  every  direction,  waiting  till  he  gird  up  his 
mental  loins  and  come  to  explore.    This  is  the  real 


Il6  I^ESSONS  I»  PSYCHOLOGY. 

result  of  a  master's  enthusiasm — it  cultivates.  Under 
plodding,  hum-drum  teachers,  who  will  not  put  soul 
into  their  work,  a  boy  may  pass  through  a  school  from 
bottom  to  top,  doing  all  the  work  so  as  to  pass  muster, 
and  be  a  savage  at  the  end.  But  let  the  enthusiast 
catch  him,  though  but  for  a  term,  and  the  savage  is 
converted."* 

I  can  not  forbear  quoting  what  another  English 
teacher  says  on  the  same  subject:  "To  find  the  lesson 
oozing,  as  it  were,  from  your  finger  tips ;  to  be  so  full 
of  your  subject  that  the  question  is  not  what  to  say, 
but  what  to  leave  out ;  and  to  feel  so  well  and  vigorous 
that  your  vivacity  compels  attention  and  interest,  and 
makes  the  faces  in  front  of  you  look  bright  con- 
tagiously— that  is  how  to  prepare  the  lesson.  .  .  . 
The  story  (told  by  the  Professor  at  the  Breakfast 
Table,  I  think)  of  a  tailor  lamenting  over  a  customer 
departing  empty-handed,  that  if  it  were  not  for  a 
headache  he  would  have  a  new  coat  on  that  back  in 
.spite  of  himself,  is  freighted  with  truth.  There  is  a 
magnetic  influence  passing  from  a  healthy  and  alert 
mind  to  all  with  whom  it  comes  in  contact ;  that  in- 
fluence is  the  teacher's  conjuring  wand,  and  without 
it  he  will  never  bring  the  dry  bones  of  education  to 

*  *•  The  Practice  of  Education,"  page  63. 


LBSgONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  117 

life.  It  will  readily  be  seen  that  no  patent  process  for 
the  production  or  maintenance  of  this  influence  can  be 
found.  It  is  best  fostered  by  variety  of  life;  by  a  wide 
experience  of  men  and  things  (not  at  all  an  easy  thing 
for  one  so  closely  tied  as  a  teacher  to  attain) ;  in  short, 
by  anything  that  tends  to  keep  the  heart  and  mind 
open,  and  to  make  life  interesting.  Teachers  lead  too 
often  very  dull  lives,  and  the  dullness  reacts  on  their 
pupils.  Men  and  women  who  have  to  give  out  so 
much  can  hardly  lead  too  full  and  rich  and  interesting 
lives.  Their  minds  ought  to  be  a  storehouse  of 
thoughts  and  pictures  and  recollections,  from  which 
they  can  draw  at  will  to  enrich  their  lessons  and  to 
furnish  the  minds  of  their  pupils." 

It  is  indeed  true  that  enthusiasm  is  a  gift  of 
nature  conferred  on  but  few  teachers.  But  there  is  a 
degree  of  interest  within  the  reach  of  every  one  of  us, 
if  we  are  willing  to  work  for  it.  There  is  no  danger 
that  we  shall  lack  interest  in  our  subjects  if  we  study 
them.  When  we  think  we  know  so  much  about  them 
that  it  is  not  worth  while  to  study  them  any  more,  that 
very  fact  proves  that  we  are  lacking  in  interest.  But 
interest  in  our  xvork  is  quite  as  essential  to  success  in 
teaching  as  knozvledge. 


Il8  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

QUESTIONS    ON    THE    TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  results  reached  in  the  preceding  chap- 
ters on  attention. 

2.  State  the  rules  given  by  Comenius,  and  show  how  each 
of  them  is  related  to  the  laws  of  attention. 

3.  Show  that  a  teacher  must  supply  the  conditions  of 
both  voluntary  and  non-voluntary  attention. 

4.  What  is  meant  by  "  education  values  ?  " 

5.  What  can  we  do  to  commend  the  subjects  we  teach  to 
our  pupils? 

6.  What  is  the  secret  of  interest  ? 

7.  Describe  the  curiosity  of  little  children,  and  state  what 
should  be  done  to  deepen  it. 

8.  What  is  an  important  object  of  questioning  older 
pupils  ? 

9.  Explain  and  describe  the  effect  of  enthusiasm  in  awak- 
ening interest. 

10.  What  is  the  point  of  the  story  told  by  the  Professor  at 
the  Breakfast  Table? 

SUGGESTIVE   QUESTIONS. 

1.  Dr.  Arnold  said:  "The  more  active  my  own  mind  is, 
the  more  it  works  upon  great  moral  and  political  points,  the 
better  for  the  school."    Account  for  the  fact. 

2.  Account  for  the  influence  of  Sheridan  at  the  battle  of 
Shenandoah. 

3.  Describe  the  Socratic  method  of  teaching,  and  account 
for  its  stimulating  effect. 

4.  What  are  the  education  values  of  arithmetic,  geog- 
raphy, grammar,  and  United  States  history  ? 

5.  Make  a  study  of  children,  as  you  have  opportunity,  to 
ascertain  the  character  of  their  attention — whether  (a)  it  is 
easily  distracted,  or  (b)  hard  to  transfer  from  one  subject  to 
another. 

(1.  What  use  can  you  make  of  that  kind  of  knowledge  of 
children  ? 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 19 

LESSON  XII. 

ATTENTION. 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  considered  the  question  as  to 
what  we  should  do  to  keep  the  attention  of  our 
pupils  during  recitation.  The  wider  question — the 
question  as  to  the  other  means  at  our  command  to  help 
us  in  cultivating  the  power  of  attention — has  yet  to 
be  examined. 

We  learned  from  Comenius  that  one  of  the  ways  of 
keeping  the  attention  of  our  pupils  during  recitation 
is  to  encourage  them  to  ask  questions ;  and  we  know 
that  the  reason  for  that  is  that  in  this  way  we  stimu- 
late their  curiosity,  and  give  them  the  pleasure  of 
mental  activity.  But  our  observations  of  children  have 
enabled  us  to  see  that  the  curiosity  of  very  young 
pupils  is  not  strong  enough  to  incite  them  to  hard 
work.  When  they  ask  us  questions,  or  when  we  ask 
them  questions  that  they  can  not  answer,  if  we  do  not 
answer  them  at  once,  they  stop  thinking  about  them, 
because  they  have  so  little  curiosity. 

But  when  we  are  dealing  with  older  pupils  we 
should  make  a  different  use  of  the  principle  of  curi- 


I30  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

osity.  Their  curiosity  is  strong  enough  to  stimulate 
them  to  harder  work.  You  can  get  their  attention  by 
asking  questions  that  will  make  them  conscious  of 
their  ignorance ;  and  the  realization  of  this  fact  will 
often  be  a  sufficient  motive  for  vigorous  exertion. 
When  you  should  answer  your  question  your  own  tact 
must  determine.  It  often  happens  that  a  student  has 
interest  enough  in  a  subject  to  be  clearly  conscious  of 
the  labyrinth  of  difficulties  in  which  the  questions  of 
his  teacher  have  involved  him,  but  not  enough  to  make 
him  willing  to  undergo  the  labor  of  threading  his  way 
out.  Now,  while  we  ought  not  to  remove  difficulties 
that  have  not  been  realized,  or  which  the  pupil's  in- 
terest might  induce  him  to  overcome,  there  are  cir- 
cumstances under  which  the  clearing  up  of  difficulties 
may  greatly  increase  his  interest,  and  thus  put  him  in 
the  way  of  a  more  vigorous  and  protracted  exertion  of 
his  powers.  When  the  subject  under  consideration 
lies  before  his  mind  wrapped  in  a  fog,  a  few  direct, 
luminous,  incisive  statements  from  you,  like  a  brisk 
wind,  may  clear  away  the  fog  and  reveal  the  outlines 
of  the  country  sharp  and  clear  to  your  pupil's  mind. 

You  may  thus  give  him  that  experience  that  can 
be  felt,  but  can  not  be  described — that  delightful  con- 
iciousnesc  of  power  which  he  realizes  when,  instead  of 


I.BSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  HI 

groping  in  darkness  in  an  unknown  country,  he  finds 
himself  at  home,  with  a  noonday  sun  to  guide  his  foot- 
steps. His  feeling  of  weakness  gives  place  to  a  feeling 
of  power.  Instead  of  feeling  himself  overborne  and 
beaten  back  by  a  superior  force,  he  is  victor,  and  his 
enemies  are  flying,  or  rather  annihilated,  before  him. 
This  delightful  experience,  this  stepping  from  dark- 
ness into  light,  this  transition  from  mental  chaos  and 
anarchy  into  a  region  of  order  and  law,  is  an  exceed- 
ingly powerful  stimulus. 

But  if  you  are  to  make  the  most  of  the  interest  ex- 
cited in  this  or  any  other  way  in  recitation,  you  must 
follow  it  up.  You  have  asked  your  pupil  a  question, 
and  set  him  to  thinking.  His  thoughts  naturally  take 
the  shape  of  a  series  of  questions,  and  he  is  eager  to 
get  answers  to  them.  What  does  he  need  to  deepen 
his  interest  ?  Books.  Or  by  a  few  well-chosen  state- 
ments you  have  set  his  mind  in  order.  He  knew  a 
lot  of  facts,  but  he  saw  no  connection  between  them. 
His  mind  was  like  a  house  into  which  a  lot  of  new  furni- 
ture had  just  been  tumbled — everything  was  every- 
where, and  nothing  was  anywhere.  Your  statements 
brought  order  out  of  chaos.  You  enabled  him  to  see 
that  the  various  measures  of  Washington's  first  ad- 
ministration were  a  part  of  the  carefully  devised  plan 


122  I^SSSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

for  Strengthening  the  general  government  that  ema- 
nated from  the  brain  of  the  great  Secretary  of  the 
Treasury.  He  at  once  becomes  interested  in  Hamil- 
ton. What  does  he  need  to  deepen  this  interest? 
Books.  Or  your  class  is  studying  Hawthorne's  "The 
Great  Stone  Face."  And  when  they  have  become  thor- 
oughly interested  in  the  strange  and  beautiful  alle- 
gory, you  tell  them  of  the  man  who  wrote  it ;  of  the 
quaint  old  town  in  which  he  lived  and  died;  of  Emer- 
son and  Thoreau,  and  the  other  famous  men  who  lived 
there  ;  you  try  to  interest  them  in  some  of  the  great 
writers  of  American  literature.  But  if  your  efiForts  are 
to  result  in  any  permanent  deepening  of  their  interest, 
they  must  have  access  to  books. 

Without  further  illustration,  it  is  plain  that  if  you 
are  to  make  the  most  of  the  interest  you  have  excited 
in  recitation,  you  must  be  able  to  direct  them  to  a 
library.  Indeed,  to  develop  interest  in  your  pupils, 
and  expect  it  to  be  self  sustaining  from  the  start,  is  as 
absurd  as  it  would  be  for  a  farmer  to  take  the  utmost 
pains  in  preparing  the  ground,  and  then  in  planting 
corn,  only  to  neglect  it  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  tiny 
blades  peeping  through  the  ground,  with  the  idea  that 
his  work  was  then  done.  If  the  tiny  blade  is  to  grow 
into  a  stalk  big  enough  to  bear  the  golden  grain,  it  must 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 23 

be  carefully  cultivated.  In  like  manuer,  if  the  interest 
which  teachers  excite  is  to  be  anything  more  than  a 
passing  emotion,  it  must  be  fostered  and  cultivated; 
it  must  be  fed  by  books. 

"But  libraries  are  expensive,  and  school  com- 
mittees and  directors  often  refuse  to  buy  them.  What 
can  ive  do  in  such  a  case,  granting  all  that  you  say 
about  their  usefulness?"  Yojc  cati  so  impress  the  idea 
of  their  iviportaiice  iipo7i  the  community  as  to  see  that 
they  are  got.  It  is  always  to  be  borne  in  mind  that  a 
library  is  only  a  collection  of  books  ;  and  as  any  finite 
quantity,  however  small,  is  infinitely  greater  than 
zero,  so  any  library,  however  small,  is  infinitely  better 
than  none.  This,  then,  is  one  of  the  things  which  we 
can  do  to  deepen  the  interests  of  our  pupils,  and  so  in- 
crease their  power  of  attention.  We  can  set  them  to 
reading  books  that  will  foster  and  nourish  the  inter- 
ests that  have  germinated  in  our  recitation  rooms. 

We  can  help  our  pupils  in  the  same  direction  by  a 
proper  system  of  discipline.  Carpenter  well  says: 
"The  influence  of  a  system  of  discipline  by  which  each 
individual  feels  himself  borne  along  as  if  by  a  Fate, 
still  more  that  of  an  instructor  possessing  a  strong 
will,  guided  by  sound  judgment  (especially  when 
united  with  qualities  that  attract  the  affection  as  well 


124  LBSSONS  IN   PSYCHOIX)GY. 

as  command  the  respect  of  the  pupil),  greatly  aid  him 
in  learning  to  use  that  power.     As  Archbishop  Man- 
ning has  truly  said :  '  During  the  earlier  period  of  our 
lives  the  potentiality  of  our  intellectual  and  moral 
nature  is  elicited  by  the  will  of  others.'"     The  hours 
of  study  should  be  short,  especially  in  the  case  of 
younger  children.    But  during  those  hours  they  should 
be  put  at  work  adapted  to  their  state  of  development, 
and  kept  assiduously  at  it.     No  whispering  should  be 
allowed.     The  boy  who  whispers  to  another  calls  oif 
his  attention  from  his  work — obstructs  the  formation 
of  the  very  habit  you  are  trying  to  develop,  the  habit 
of  concentration.     No  disorder  of  any  kind  should  be 
tolerated.    With  the  utmost  kindness,  and  at  the  same 
time  with  the  utmost  firmness,  your  pupils  should  be 
made  to  feel  that  the  hours  for  study  are  for  study. 
As  soon  as  they  can  understand  them;  you  should  show 
them  the  reason  for  your  requirements.     You  should 
make  them  feel  that,  in  obeying  you,  they  are  obeying 
reason,  and  not  arbitrary  will.   And  when  they  can  ap- 
preciate the  truth  of  that  noteworthy  saying  of  L,ocke's, 
"  The  foundation  of  all  virtue  and  worth  consists  in  the 
ability  to  cross  one's  inclinations  and  follow  the  dic- 
tates of  reason, "you  have  in  their  own  desire  to  reach 
a  high  ideal  a  powerful  auxiliary. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  125 

We  can  help  our  pupils  in  developing  powers  of 
concentration  by  judiciously  arranging  our  programs. 
You  can  use  your  hands  and  arms  until  they  ache,  at 
the  same  time  that  you  can  walk  without  any  sense  of 
fatigue.  In  like  manner  you  can  use  one  set  of 
faculties  until  they  are  tired,  while  another  set  remains 
comparatively  fresh.  It  is  true,  of  course,  that,  as  the 
whole  body  shares  to  some  extent  in  the  fatigue  of 
any  of  its  members,  so  the  mind  that  has  become 
fatigued  for  certain  kinds  of  work  is  to  some  extent 
fatigued  for  all  kinds.  Still,  as  we  know,  change  in 
work,  both  bodily  and  mental,  is  resting.  We  need  to 
bear  this  in  mind  in  arranging  our  programs.  Draw- 
ing and  writing  are  both  a  training  of  the  hands  and 
eyes.  Hence  neither  should  follow  the  other.  History 
and  geography  both  tax  the  memory  severely.  Neither 
of  them  should  succeed  the  other.  Arithmetic  chiefly 
exercises  the  reasoning  powers.  It  should  be  studied 
when  the  mind  is  freshest. 

Finally,  we  should  never  permit  ourselves  to  resort 
to  "laziness"  or  " stupidity  "  to  account  for  inattention 
as  long  as  any  other  explanation  is  possible.  I  have 
already  quoted  that  profound  observation  of  Pesta- 
lozzi's,  "  If  our  pupils  are  inattentive,  we  should  first 
look  to  ourselves  for  the  reason."    Any  teacher  who 


126  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI^OGY. 

earnestly  tries  to  follow  Pestalozzi's  injunction  will  be 
surprised  to  find  in  how  large  a  number  of  cases  inat- 
tention and  lack  of  interest  on  the  part  of  his  pupils 
are  due  to  causes  which  he  can  remove.  Sometimes  a 
boy  is  inattentive  because  he  does  not  see  the  practical 
value  of  the  work  he  is  set  to  doing ;  sometimes  be^ 
cause  he  doesn't  understand  certain  fundamental  ideas 
which,  being  in  darkness,  necessarily  darken  the  en- 
tire subject ;  sometimes  because  he  is  overworked  and 
tired;  sometimes  also — sad  to  relate— because  the 
teacher,  by  sarcastic  and  satirical  remarks,  has  excited 
the  boy's  dislike.  Grown  people  are  sometimes  guilty 
of  "cutting  off  their  noses  to  spite  their  faces,"  and 
boys  very  often.  And  when  a  teacher  indulges  in  sar- 
casm at  the  expense  of  his  pupils,  they  are  very  likely 
to  slight  their  work  as  much  as  they  can,  even  when 
they  know  they  are  injuring  themselves,  because  he 
wants  them  to  do  it^ 

■■"Many  a  boy  -will  sit  and  seem  stolid,  and  all  the  -while 
reseat  your  satire  with  exasperation.  You  can  not  tell  a 
sensitive  boy  by  the  look.  He  is  not  the  shy,  dark-eyed 
creature  of  the  school  tales.  He  may  just  as  likely  be  a  ruddy, 
high-spirited  person,  or  a  brawny  athlete,  or  an  ugly,  lumpy 
log  of  a  boy.  And  the  satire  may  often  be  unjust.  And,  just 
or  unjust,  nineteen  boys  out  of  twenty  hate  it.  The  worst 
mistake  of  all  is  to  use  it  among  small  boys.    .    .    .    When 


LE.SSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 27 

Sometimes  also  boys  are  inattentive  because  the 
facts  of  the  subject  have  not  much  natural  interest  for 
them,  and  have  never  been  connected  with  anything 
else.  One  of  my  pupils  told  me  of  a  boy,  whom  he 
once  taught,  who  had  a  great  dislike  of  arithmetic. 
He  began  to  inquire  about  the  boy,  and  learned  that 
he  was  very  fond  of  animals  and  hunting.  The  next 
day  after  learning  this  fact  he  gave  the  class  in  arith- 
metic problems  about  animals.  The  boy  became  in- 
terested. The  teacher  pursued  this  course  for  a  week, 
and  in  that  time  he  had  acquired  such  an  interest  in 
solving  problems  about  animals  that  he  had  come  to 
like  arithmetic  for  its  own  sake. 

Sometimes  also  boys  are  inattentive  bc^cause  we  do 
not  respect  their  individuality— because  we  set  them 
to  doing  entirely  uncongenial  work.  It  is  very  in- 
structive to  learn  that  Darwin  was  counted  a  very  dull 
boy,  and  I  think  it  quite  likely  that  the  same  opinion 
was  held  of  Edison.  The  trouble,  of  course,  was  not 
with  Darwin,  but  with  his  teachers.  He  had  a  strong 
bent  towards  the  study  of  nature,  and  they  wanted  to 
teach  him  I^atiu  and  Greek,  and  make  him  memorize 


they  are  ignorant,  or  inattentive,  or  stupid,  he  begins  to  be 
sarcastic — i.  e.,  to  show  a  far  worse  ignorance  and  stupidity 
than  theirs."— TTr*  Practice  of  Education,  page  41. 


I2t  I<«SSONS  IN   WYCHOI^OGY. 

books  about  nature.  If  his  teachers  had  practiced 
Pestalozzi's  injunction,  this  dull  boy  might  have  been 
transformed  into  the  most  interesting  and  interested 
student  in  their  schools.* 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Under  what  circumstances  is  it  proper  to  ask  your 
pupils  questions  that  you  do  not  answer? 

2.  Mention  various  ways  in  which  you  can  use  a  library 
to  deepen  the  interest  of  your  pupils. 

3.  lu  what  ways  does  a  system  of  discipline  aid  you  in  de- 
veloping your  pupils'  powers  of  attention  ? 

4.  By  what  principle  should  the  arrangement  of  a  pro- 
gram of  studies  be  determined? 

5.  Mention  various  causes  of  inattention  and  lack  of  in- 
terest, and  state  what  can  be  done  to  remove  them. 

6.  What  do  I  mean  by  "  respecting  the  individuality  "  of 
the  pupil  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  State  the  various  uses  of  questioning  pupils. 

2.  If  a  boy  liked  arithmetic,  and  disliked  geography,  or 
conversely,  how  would  you  try  to  develop  an  interest  in  the 
subject  to  which  he  was  indiflFerent? 

3.  Do  you  think  there  should  be  elective  studies  in  high 
schools,  and,  if  so,  to  what  extent? 

4.  Can  you  respect  the  individuality  of  atudenta  who  are 
studying  the  same  subjects? 


*  See  Appendix  A. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  129 

IvESSON    XIII. 
KNOWING,    FEELING,   AND   WILLING. 

IN  studying  our  experience  in  order  to  ascertain  the 
nature  and  laws  of  attention,  we  have  already  ob- 
served three  fundamentally  different  classes  of  mental 
facts.  We  have  seen  that  what  we  perceive,  remember, 
recollect,  and  believe — as  the  result  of  reasoning — de- 
pends on  what  we  attend  to.  But  all  these  acts  of 
mind — perception,  memory,  recollection,  and  reason- 
ing— are  alike  forms  of  knowledge.  Perception  gives 
us  what  seems  to  be  immediate  or  direct  knowledge 
of  external  objects — trees,  houses,  fences,  and  the  like; 
memory,  direct  knowledge  of  past  objects  and  events; 
reasoning,  mediate  or  indirect  knowledge  of  objects 
and  events  and  laws — past,  present,  and  future.  They 
diflfer,  then,  in  the  kinds  of  facts  of  which  they  tell  us, 
and  the  way  in  which  they  tell  us  about  them.  Per- 
ception tells  us  of  the />r<fj<fw/ directly;  memory,  of  the 
past  indirectly;  reasoning,  of  past,  present,  and  future 
indirectly.  But  they  agree  in  being  forms  or  kinds  of 
knowledge.  What  we  perceive,  and  what  we  remem- 
ber, and  what  we  learn  by  reasoning,  we  alike  know, 
provided  there  has  been  no  mistake  in  the  processes. 

9 


I30  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  we  have  seen  that  what  we  perceive,  rememljy^'r, 
etc.,  depends  on  what  interests  us — on  what  gives  us 
pleasure  and  pain.  This  interest — this  pleasure  and 
pain — is  a  fundamentally  different  fact  from  know- 
ledge. Acts  of  knowing  are  indeed  usually  accom- 
panied by  pleasure  or  pain ;  but  the  knowing  is  one 
thing — the  pleasure  or  pain  quite  another.  We  shall 
see  this  clearly  if  we  consider  the  effect  the  knowledge 
of  the  same  fact  produces  on  different  minds,  or  the 
same  mind  under  different  circumstances.  One  man 
reads  an  account  of  a  death ;  it  produces  no  effect,  be- 
cause the  dead  man  was  an  entire  stranger.  Another 
reads  it  and  is  prostrated  with  grief;  the  dead  man  was 
his  son.  Or  you  drop  your  purse,  and  you  see  it  lying 
on  the  ground,  as  you  stoop  to  pick  it  up,  with  no  feel- 
ing either  of  pleasure  or  pain.  But  if  you  see  it  after 
you  have  lost  it  and  have  hunted  for  it  a  long  time  in 
vain,  you  have  a  pronounced  feeling  of  pleasure. 

All  forms  of  pleasure  and  pain  are  called  feelings. 
Between  the  pleasure  which  comes  from  eating  a 
peach  and  that  which  results  from  solving  a  difficult 
problem,  or  learning  good  news  of  a  friend,  or  think- 
ing of  the  progress  of  civilization — between  the  pain 
that  results  from  a  cut  in  the  hand  and  that  which  re- 
sults from  the  failure  of  a  long  cherished  plan  or  the 


I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  131 

death  of  a  friend — there  is  a  long  distance.  But  the  one 
group  are  all  pleasures;  the  other,  all  pains.  And 
whatever  the  source  of  the  pleasure  or  pain,  it  is  alike 
feeling. 

We  saw,  also,  in  studying  attention,  that  it  often 
requires  hard  work  to  take  our  minds  from  some  sub- 
ject that  strongly  attracts  it.  That  effort  is  an  ex- 
ample of  willi7ig.  We  can  easily  distinguish  willing 
from  both  knowing  2ind  feeling.  The  boy  who  is  in- 
vited to  go  skating  when  he  has  a  lesson  to  get  has  a 
perfectly  definite  idea — knowledge — of  what  he  is  in- 
vited to  do.  That  idea  gives  him  a  longing  to  go — 
feeling — but  he  does  not  decide — will — to  do  it.  He 
wishes  to  get  his  lesson ;  the  thought  of  leaving  it  un- 
learned gives  him  a  form  of  pain.  And  so,  between 
the  anticipations  of  the  pleasure  the  skating  would 
give  him  and  the  pain  he  feels  at  thinking  of  leaving 
his  lesson  unlearned,  he  is  undecided  for  some  min- 
utes— he  wills  neither  to  go  nor  not  to  go.  Presently 
he  decides — wills.  He  says,  "I  will  go,"  and  im- 
mediatel}''  makes  preparations  to  start;  or,  "I  will  not 
go,"  and  resolutely  attempts  to  put  all  thought  of  skat- 
ing out  of  his  mind. 

And  no  matter  what  you  do — whether  you  walk, 
sing,  talk,  jump,  think  of  this  or  that — the  act  of  the 


132  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

mind  which  initiates  your  activity,  provided  there  is 
such  an  act — which  is  not  always  the  case — is  an  act 
of  the  will. 

These  three  classes  of  facts  are  all  experiences  of 
the  same  mind  or  self.  You  say,  "/know,  /feel,  / 
will,"  and  you  say  rightly.  The  self  that  knows  is  the 
self  that  feels  and  wills.  Still  it  is  convenient  to  have 
names  that  denote  particular  groups  of  these  activities 
of  the  mind.  As  it  saves  circumlocution  to  have  one 
name  to  denote  the  business  of  a  man — farmer — and 
another  his  party  ties — republican — although  the  same 
man  is  both  farmer  and  republican,  so  we  speak  of  the 
mind  as  intellect  when  we  think  of  it  as  possessing  and 
exercising  the  power  to  know ;  sensibility,  when  we 
think  of  it  as  possessing  and  exercising  the  power  to 
feel ;  will,  when  we  think  of  it  as  possessing  and  exer- 
cising the  power  to  will.  But  it  is  the  one  indivisible 
mind  that  is  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will. 

We  shall  find  upon  observation  that  the  mind  does 
nothing  but  know,  feel,  and  will.  Probably  j'^ou  don't 
like  to  call  that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  reaches  a 
false  conclusion  an  act  of  knowledge,  and  it  is  not  as 
the  word  is  popularly  used.  But,  as  a  mental  fact, 
what  is  the  difference  between  the  act  of  the  mind  by 
which  it  reaches  a  true  conclusion  and  that  by  which 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 33 

it  reaches  one  that  is  false?  None  whatever,  in  many 
cases.  A  child  sees  an  old  man  with  white  whiskers, 
and  is  told  that  they  were  black  when  he  was  young. 
Her  papa  has  black  whiskers,  and  so  she  asks,  "  Papa, 
were  your  whiskers  white  when  you  were  young?" 
Her  conclusion  is  false,  and  yet  her  mental  process  is 
exactly  like  many  that  lead  her  to  conclusions  that  are 
true.  So  also  memory  often  misleads,  and  we  often 
think  we  perceive  what  does  not  exist.  But  as  mental 
facts  there  is  no  difference  between  memory  that  de- 
ceives and  memory  that  tells  the  truth — between  acts 
of  perception  that  correspond  with  external  objects 
and  those  that  do  not. 

Although  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will  are  but  dif- 
ferent names  of  the  one  mind,  as  feeling  and  willing 
and  knowing,  there  is  scarcely  a  moment  in  our  waking 
hours  when  we  are  not  doing  all  three  at  the  same 
time.  Examine  our  minds  when  we  will,  and  we 
shall  always  find  ourselves  knowing,  and  generally 
feeling  and  willing. 

Nevertheless  we  can  not  know  intensely  and  feel 
or  will  intensely  at  the  same  time ;  or  feel  intensely, 
and  know  or  will  intensely  at  the  same  time ;  or  will 
intensely,  and  know  or  feel  intensely  at  the  same 
time. 


134  LBSSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

Some  of  the  illustrations  of  the  effects  of  attention 
will  serve  to  illustrate  this  law  of  the  mind  also. 
When  Carpenter  was  engaged  in  lecturing,  he  forgot 
his  pain.  Why?  Because  pain  is  a  feeling;  and  when 
he  was  lecturing  he  was  exercising  his  powers  to  know 
very  vigorously.  A  mad  man  is  an  insane  man — one 
whose  knowing  powers  are  disarranged.  Why  is  it 
that  we  sometimes  call  an  angry  man  mad?  Because 
anger  is  a  state  of  intense  feeling,  and  a  man  in  such 
a  state  often  does  as  foolish  things  as  though  he  were 
insane.  The  expression  "wild  with  grief"  has  a  simi- 
lar significance — illustrates  the  same  law.  You  have 
noticed  also  that  you  do  not  make  much  progress  in 
those  studies  which  interest  you  so  little  as  to  make 
it  necessary  for  you  to  put  forth  a  great  deal  of  eflfort 
to  keep  your  mind  on  them.  Why?  Because  you  have 
to  will  so  energetically  to  concentrate  your  attention 
that  there  is  little  energy  left  for  knowing. 

The  practical  rules  which  are  based  upon  this  law 
are  so  evident  that  it  is  needless  to  enlarge  upon  them. 
You  know  that  when  your  pupils  are  amused  they  do 
not  study  much,  because  amusement — a  pleasurable 
feeling — is  a  hindrance  to  that  concentration  of  mind 
which  we  call  study — knowing. 

The  law  that  I  have  been  illustrating  is  called  the 


I^BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOI.OGY.  1 35 

opposition  or    antagofiism    of   knowing,  feeling,  and 
willing. 

Notwithstanding  this  opposition,  there  is  an  inter- 
dependence of  knowing,  feeling,  and  willing.  When 
you  hurt  your  hand — feeling — you  know  that  you  hurt 
it — and  you  try  to  relieve  the  pain — willing.  Some- 
times you  have  what  you  call  the  "blues" — you  feel 
depressed  without  knowing  why.  Apart  from  that 
case,  and  bodily  pleasures  and  pains,  all  feeling  de- 
pends upon  knowing.  What  angers  you  or  grieves 
you?  Something  you  know.  When  your  .so-called 
friends  backbite  you,  it  does  not  affect  you  until  you 
know  it ;  the  misfortune  that  overtakes  your  absent 
friends  does  not  trouble  you  until  the  news  has  reached 
you.  The  dependence  of  knowing  on  feeling  I  have 
illustrated  at  length  in  the  lesson  on  attention. 
I  tried  to  show  how  necessary  interest  is  to  attention — 
and  that  is  only  another  way  of  stating  the  depend- 
ence of  knowing,  so  far  as  it  results  from  involuntary 
attention,  upon  feeling.  The  facts  of  voluntary  at- 
tention again  illustrate  the  dependence  of  the  will  on 
feeling.  I  will  to  do  this  or  that  because  of  some 
pleasure  or  benefit — and  that,  when  analyzed,  will  be 
found  to  consist  of  some  form  of  pleasure — which  I 
liope  to  gain,  or  of  some  pain  which  I  hope  to  avoid. 


136  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI^OGY. 

This  fact  of  the  interdependence  of  knowing,  feel- 
ing, and  willing  is,  as  we  know,  of  cardinal  import- 
ance to  the  teacher.  Teachers  are  coming  to  feel  the 
importance  of  knowing  the  contents  of  their  pupils' 
minds,  in  order  that  they  may  adapt  their  teaching  to 
them.  To  go  from  the  known  to  the  unknown  is  to 
make  what  the  pupil  knows  a  starting-point  from 
which  to  lead  him  to  something  he  does  not  know. 
Plainly  any  attempt  to  explain  the  unknown  will  be  a 
failure  unless  the  explanation  is  made  in  terms  known 
to  the  pupil.  For  this  reason  intelligent  teachers  are 
always  trying  to  make  a  map  of  their  pupils*  minds, 
that  they  may  learn  what  points  they  can  help  their 
pupils  to  start  from  in  making  excursions  into  the  un- 
known. 

But  there  is  another  fact  just  as  important  which 
we  are  more  likely  to  overlook.  When  you  have  ar- 
ranged an  excursion,  there  is  something  else  you 
must  do  before  you  can  be  sure  it  will  be  a  success — 
you  must  see  to  it  that  people  have  a  sufl5cient  motive 
to  go  on  it.  So  also,  when  you  have  planned  a  mental 
excursion  for  your  pupils,  when  you  have  found  a 
place  from  which  they  can  start,  before  you  can  be 
sure  of  their  company,  you  must  be  sure  that  they 
have  a  sufficient  motive  for  going  with  you.  Dropping 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOlrOGY.  1 37 

the  figure,  it  is  not  enough  for  you  to  explain  things 
so  that  your  pupils  can  understand  you;  you  must  see 
to  it  that  they  have  a  motive  to  make  the  necessary 
exertion.  What  wind  is  to  a  sailing  vessel,  and  water 
to  a  water  mill,  and  steam  to  a  steam  engine,  that 
motives — feelings  of  some  sort — are  to  all  intellectual 
activity.  It  is  not  enough  to  build  railroads  and  cars 
and  steam  engines — coal  must  be  mined  and  water 
must  be  converted  into  steam,  or  the  cars  will  never 
leave  the  depot. 

The  clear  perception  of  this  truth,  and  of  the 
enormous  difference  in  the  educational  value  of  the 
motives  which  you  may  make  use  of,  will  give  you  a 
new  test  for  determining  the  excellence  of  a  school. 
You  go  into  a  school — the  order  is  excellent,  the  les- 
sons well  prepared.  You  say,  "That's  a  good  school." 
But  can  you  be  sure  of  that  without  further  examina- 
tion ?  You  know  indeed  that  good  results  are  reached ; 
but  before  you  can  decide  as  to  the  character  of  the 
school,  you  must  know  what  means  are  employed  to 
reach  them — you  must  know  what  motives  the  teacher 
appeals  to.  Are  the  pupils  quiet  simply  through  fear? 
Then  all  we  can  say  is  that  the  school  has  one  element 
of  a  good  school — order — but  that  the  wrong  motives 
are  relied  on  to  get  it.    Do  they  learn  their  lessons  to 


I3S  I,BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

avoid  punishment?  Then  again  I  say  the  wrong 
motives  are  appealed  to.  Good  teaching  appeals  to 
motives  that  will  tend  to  make  pupils  studious  through 
life.  How  long  will  the  fear  of  punishment  influence 
pupils?  As  long  as  there  is  a  teacher  to  inflict  punish- 
ment. Indeed,  as  we  have  seen,  it  is  not  enough  to 
make  instruction  interesting.  Volkman  well  says  that 
the  precept  of  modern  Pedagogy  is,  "Instruct  in  such 
a  way  that  an  interest  may  awake  and  remain  active 
for  life." 

The  question  as  to  the  extent  to  which  emulation 
should  be  appealed  to  is  undoubtedly  difficult,  but  it 
is  safe  to  say  that  it  is  not  to  be  condemned  altogether, 
as  some  theorists  and  idealists  would  have  it.  Where 
it  is  used  to  stimulate  the  idle  as  well  as  the  indus- 
trious, the  weak  as  well  as  the  strong,  it  is  an  alto- 
gether proper  and  valuable  motive  to  appeal  to.  In 
that  suggestive  and  stimulating  book,  "Educational 
Reformers,"  the  author,  Mr.  Quick,  gives  an  interest- 
ing and  instructive  illustration  of  some  excellent  work 
which  the  principle  of  emulation  may  be  made  to  do. 
"Let  me  tell  you,"  he  says  in  an  imaginary  conversa- 
tion with  a  friend,  "of  one  form  of  stimulus  which 
seemed  to  work  well  and  was  free  from  most  of  the  ob- 
jections you  are  thinking  of.  When  I  had  ^  small 
school  of  my  own,  in  which  there  were  only  young 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 39 

boys,  I  put  up  in  the  school-room  a  list  of  the  boys' 
names,  in  alphabetical  order,  with  blank  spaces  after 
the  names.  I  looked  over  the  boys'  written  work  very 
carefully,  and  whenever  I  came  across  any  written  ex- 
ercise evidently  done  with  great  painstaking,  and,  for 
that  boy,  with  more  than  ordinary  success,  I  marked  it 
with  a  G,  and  I  put  the  G  in  one  of  the  spaces  after 
that  boy's  name  in  the  list  hung  up  in  the  school-room. 
When  the  school  collectively  had  a  fixed  number  of 
G's,  we  had  an  extra  half  holiday.  The  announce- 
ment of  a  G  was  therefore  always  hailed  with  de- 
light."— Page  530,  Rev.  Ed. 

This  method  tended  to  make  the  boy  emulate  his 
past  self,  and  that  was  its  chief  excellence.  It  was  not 
the  merit  of  a  boy's  work,  in  comparison  with  the 
work  of  other  boys,  that  won  a  G,  but  the  merit  in 
comparison  with  his  own  past  performances.  But  I  do 
not  mean  to  imply  that  it  is  never  proper  to  try  to  get 
our  pupils  to  work  by  inducing  them  to  try  to  excel 
each  other.  Far  from  it.  A  boy  who  feels  that  he  is 
a  blockhead  thinks  that  it  is  not  worth  while  for  him 
to  try  to  do  anything.  Each  pupil  should  be  made  to 
feel  that  there  is  some  thing  in  which  he  can  excel,  and 
we  should  regard  it  as  one  of  our  most  important 
duties  to  try  to  help  him  to  find  what  that  thing  is. 
We  should  therefore  always  be  on  the  alert  to  detect 


I40  LBSfiONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

any  signs  of  excellence  in  the  work  of  the  dull  boys 
and  girls,  and  be  quick  to  commend  it.  I  have  already 
spoken  of  a  boy  who  could  not  spell  one  word  in  four 
in  a  spelling  lesson  after  hours  of  study.  But  he  was 
excellent  in  arithmetic,  and  it  was  altogether  proper 
for  his  teacher  to  praise  his  work  in  that  subject  as 
highly  as  it  would  bear. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  difference  between  mediate  and  immedi- 
ate knowledge  ? 

2.  Define  Intellect,  Sensibility,  and  Will. 

3.  Define  and  give  examples  of  knowing,  feeling,  and 
willing. 

4.  Why  are  erroneous  reasonings  classed  as  knowing  ? 

5.  What  is  meant  by  the  opposition  of  knowing,  feeling, 
and  willing  ? 

6.  What  is  meant  by  their  interdependence  ? 

7.  Illustrate  both  from  your  own  observation  and  ex- 
perience. 

8.  What  is  the  test  of  a  good  school  ? 

9.  What  is  one  of  the  most  important  duties  of  a  teacher  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Show  in  detail  the  relation  between  the  conclusions 
reached  as  to  the  conditions  of  attention  and  those  reached 
in  this  chapter. 

2.  Can  you  bring  the  law  of  the  antagonism  between 
knowing,  feeling,  and  willing  under  a  wider  law  ? 

3.  Mention  ways  in  which  the  principle  of  emulation 
may  be  used  to  get  altogether  useful  results. 

4.  Give  examples  of  erroneous  reasonings  in  children, 
end  show  their  resemblance  to  correct  reasonings. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  I4I 


LESSON  XIV. 

SENSATION. 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  picked  out  the  threads  of  which 
the  tangled  web  of  our  conscious  life  is  com- 
posed. We  learned  that,  no  matter  what  subject 
stands  in  the  center  of  the  field  of  consciousness — 
whether  the  toys  of  the  child,  the  games  of  the  boy, 
the  ambitions  of  the  young  man,  the  absorbing  occu- 
pations of  maturity,  or  the  retrospective  reveries  of 
old  age — our  entire  mental  life  consists  of  knowing, 
feeling,  and  willing. 

If  my  object  were  to  discuss,  even  in  a  superficial 
way,  these  various  phases  of  our  mental  life,  it  would 
be  proper  now  to  try  to  ascertain  the  strands  of  which 
these  threads  are  composed,  and  show  how  they  were 
twisted  into  their  present  form  in  our  experience — to 
break  up  the  complex  forms  of  knowing,  feeling,  and 
willing,  of  which  we  are  conscious,  into  their  ele- 
ments, and  then  trace  their  growth  from  their  feeble 
beginnings  up  to  the  forms  in  which  we  find  them. 

But  I  have  no  such  purpose.  I  intend  from  this 
point  to  confine  myself  to  the  intellectual  or  knowing 


142  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

side  of  the  mental  life,  and  to  those  phases  of  it  that 
have  most  interest  for  us  as  teachers.  But  even  here 
lack  of  space  prevents  me  from  pursuing  a  strictly 
logical  course — from  trying  to  break  up  the  complex 
forms  of  knowing  of  which  we  are  conscious,  in  order 
to  ascertain  their  elements. 

Fortunately,  however,  we  can  be  sure  of  some  of 
those  elements,  at  any  rate,  without  any  elaborate 
analysis.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  we  should  never  know 
anything  of  the  objects  about  us  were  it  not  for  their 
action  upon  the  senses.  We  see  that  persons  born 
blind  have  no  ideas  of  colors — that  those  born  deaf 
have  no  ideas  of  sounds ;  and  it  is  evident  that,  if  a 
being  were  born  without  any  of  the  senses,  he  would 
remain  in  absolute  ignorace  of  the  external  world, 
even  supposing  it  were  possible  for  him  to  have  anj'- 
mental  life  at  all. 

We  can  be  sure,  then,  that  sensations  are  a  part, 
at  any  rate,  of  the  elements  of  v;hich  our  intellectual 
life  is  composed.  Evidently,  therefore,  in  discussing 
the  intellect,  the  subject  to  begin  with  is  sensation. 

But  what  is  a  sensation?  If  you  ever  watched  a 
hunter,  at  a  little  distance  from  you,  in  the  act  of  firing 
at  a  bird,  you  doubtless  noticed  that  you  saw  the 
smoke  before  you  heard  the  report  of  his  gun.    The 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 43 

reason  of  that  is,  you  say,  that,  as  sound  does  not 
travel  as  fast  as  light,  you  saw  the  smoke  before  you 
heard  the  report,  because  the  sound  was  outstripped 
in  the  race.  But  what  do  you  mean  when  you  say 
that  sound  travels?  Surely  not  that  the  sensation 
traveled,  because  there  was  no  sensation  there.  All 
that  were  there  were  vibrations  of  air.  The  only  im- 
mediate result  of  the  firing  of  the  gun  was  a  rapid 
change  in  the  position  of  the  particles  of  air — not 
sound  at  all,  but  something  which  we  could  see,  if  air 
were  visible,  and  if  the  eye  were  quick  and  keen 
enough  to  follow  its  rapid  changes.  These  vibrations 
of  air  do  indeed  travel  in  such  cases ;  and  as  we  in 
imagination  follow  them  as  they  radiate  from  the  hunter 
as  a  center,  we  can  realize  that  what  we  are  following 
is  not  sensation,  but  motion.  Presently  they  reach  the 
end  of  the  auditory  nerve.  Still  there  is  only  motion. 
The  vibrating  particles  of  air  cause  a  change  in  the 
particles  in  the  end  of  the  auditory  nerve,  and  these 
in  the  particles  nexi  to  them,  and  so  on,  until  the  brain 
center  is  reached.  Still  we  have  nothing  but  motion. 
But  the  change  in  the  brain  center  is  followed  by  some- 
thing that  is  not  motion — by  that  unique  mental  fact 
which  we  call  a  sensation  of  sound. 

You  remember  that  a  mental  fact  in  one  known  or 


144  LBSSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

knowable  to  but  one  person  directly,  while  a  physical 
fact  may  be  known  by  any  number  of  persons — certain 
conditions  being  complied  with.  Evidently  all  the 
antecedents  of  the  sensation  of  sound  which  we  have 
considered  are  physical  facts.  The  firing  of  a  gun  is  a 
physical  fact,  since  any  number  of  people  can  see  it  at 
the  same  time.  Although  we  can  not  say  as  much  of 
the  vibrating  air,  the  reason  is  not  because  of  the  nature 
of  the  fact,  but  because  of  defects  in  our  senses.  If  our 
senses  were  more  acute,  a  large  number  of  people 
might  feel  the  vibrations  of  the  air  that  result  from  the 
firing  of  a  gun,  and  hence  it  is  a  physical  fact.  So  also 
of  the  next  antecedent — the  changes  in  the  auditory 
nerve  produced  by  the  vibrations  of  the  air.  Of  course 
no  one  has  ever  seen  them,  because,  in  the  first  place, 
the  nerve  itself  can  not  be  seen ;  and  in  the  second 
place,  if  it  could,  its  particles  are  so  exceedingly  small 
that  no  changes  in  them  could  be  seen.  But  here 
again  the  reason  is  not  because  of  the  nature  of  the  fad, 
but  of  the  conditions  under  which  it  exists,  and  of  de- 
fects in  our  senses.  Plainly  the  same  is  true  of  the 
changes  in  the  brain,  which,  like  those  in  the  auditory 
nerve,  are  physical  facts.  But  directly  after  these 
changes  in  the  brain — perhaps,  indeed,  contempo- 
raneous with  them — a  fact  occurs  utterly  unlike  the 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 45 

series  of  facts  that  preceded  it — a  fact  which,  because 
of  its  very  nature,  is  kuowable  only  to  the  person  ex- 
periencing it — and  that  fact  is  the  sensation. 

Suppose  that  the  stars  had  been  blotted  out  of  ex- 
istence, and  that  they  began  to  exist  again  while  you 
were  looking  up  at  the  sky  on  a  dark  night,  would 
they  immediately  give  you  a  sensation  of  sight  ?  Cer- 
tainly not.  The  waves  of  light  would  travel  for  years 
before  they  reach  your  eyes,  and  even  then  there  would 
be  no  sensation.  The  changes  in  the  retina  of  your 
eye  would  have  to  be  communicated  to  the  optic  nerve, 
and  then  to  the  brain  center,  before  there  could  be  a 
sensation. 

These  examples  enable  us  to  distinguish  the  sev- 
eral antecedents  that  precede  sensation  :* 

1.  An  exciting  cause — something  to  produce  a 
change  in  the  ends  of  the  nerves. 

2.  The  action  of  this  cause  upon  the  nerves. 
Vibrating  air  that  does  not  reach  the  auditory  nerve 
does  not  tend  to  produce  a  sensation  of  sound. 

3.  That  change  which  takes  place  in  the  nerves 
in  consequence  of  the  effect  produced  by  the  exciting 
cause  upon  the  particles  of  the  nerve  with  which  it 
comes  in  contact.     What  the  nature  of  that  change  is 

*See  Lindner's  "Psychology,"  page  32. 
10 


146  I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

no  one  knows,  except  that  it  is  some  kind  of  motion. 
You  have  often  seen  boys  stand  a  lot  of  bricks  in 
a  row,  so  that  when  one  was  pushed  down  it  fell 
against  the  next,  and  it  against  the  one  next  it,  until 
all  were  thrown  down.  Spencer  compares  the  effect 
produced  by  a  falling  brick  upon  the  rest  of  the  row 
in  the  above  case  to  the  effect  produced  by  the  change 
in  the  particles  of  the  end  of  the  nerve  upon  the  rest 
of  them — not,  of  course,  with  the  idea  that  there  is  any 
real  resemblance  in  the  two  cases,  but  in  order  to  help 
us  imagine  how  a  change  in  one  part  of  the  nerve  might 
be  communicated  to  the  whole  of  it. 

4.  The  change  in  the  brain  center  in  consequence 
of  this  change  in  the  nerve.  Inasmuch  as  it  is  this 
change  that  immediately  precedes  and  occasioiis  or  con- 
ditions the  sensation,  we  would  naturally  suppose  that, 
if  there  were  any  way  of  producing  it  without  stimu- 
lating the  nerve  that  leads  to  it,  the  same  sensation 
would  exist  that  ordinarily  results  from  stimulating 
the  nerve.  The  usual  method  of  ringing  a  bell  is  by 
pulling  the  bell-rope.*  But  as  the  sole  utility  of  pull- 
ing the  rope  is  to  make  the  bell  swing,  so  that  its 
tongue  may  strike  against  its  sides,  and  as  the  bell 
will  ring  just  as  well  when  from  any  other  cause  its 

*This  illustration  was  suggested  by  one  used  by  Taine. 


IvKSSONS   IN   PSYCH01.0GY.  I47 

tongue  is  put  in  motion,  so  we  would  suppose  that,  in- 
asmuch as  the  sole  function  of  the  nerv^es  leading  to 
the  brain  in  causing  sensation  is  to  cause  a  change  in 
the  brain  centers,  if  in  any  way  that  change  is  pro- 
duced without  the  agency  of  the  nerve,  the  sensations 
would  exist  all  the  same.  There  are  many  facts  that 
indicate  that  this  supposition  is  true. 

It  is  well  known  that  many  chess-players  can  play 
with  great  skill  with  their  eyes  closed  and  their  faces 
turned  towards  the  wall.  A  man  who  possessed  this 
power  in  a  high  degree  gave  the  following  account  of 
it:  "When  I  am  in  my  corner,  facing  the  wall,  I  see 
simultaneously  the  chess-board  and  all  the  pieces  as 
they  were  in  reality  after  the  last  move ;  and  as  each 
piece  is  moved  I  see  the  whole  chess-board,  with  the 
new  change  effected.  .  .  .  '  It  is  far  easier  to  de- 
ceive me  when  I  watch  the  board  than  otherwise ;  in 
fact,  when  I  am  in  my  corner,  I  defy  any  one  to  mis- 
lead me  as  to  the  position  of  a  piece  without  my  after- 
wards detecting  it.  .  .  .  I  see  the  piece,  the  square, 
and  the  color,  exactly  as  the  workman  made  them — 
that  is,  I  see  the  chess-board  standing  before  my  ad- 
versary ;  or,  at  all  events,  I  have  an  exact  representa- 
tion of  it,  and  not  that  of  another  board." — Taine,  ''In- 
telligence'' page  38. 


148  LEMONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

The  same  author  narrates  many  other  facts  that 
point  in  the  same  direction — among  others  the  follow- 
ing :  "An  English  painter,  whose  rapidity  of  execution 
was  marvelous,  explained  his  mode  of  work  in  this 
way :  '  When  a  sitter  came,  I  looked  at  him  attentively 
for  half  an  hour,  sketching  from  time  to  time  on  the 
canvas.  I  wanted  no  more.  I  put  away  my  canvas 
and  took  another  sitter.  When  I  wished  to  resume  my 
first  portrait,  /  took  the  -man  and  sat  him  in  the  chair ^ 
where  I  saw  him  as  distinctly  as  if  he  had  been  before 
me  in  his  own  proper  person — I  may  almost  saj'  more 
vividly.  I  looked  from  time  to  time  at  the  imaginary 
figure,  then  worked  with  my  pencil,  then  referred  to 
the  countenance,  and  so  on,  just  as  I  should  have  done 
had  the  sitter  been  there.  When  I  looked  at  the  chair 
I  saw  the  fna7i.  Gradually  I  began  to  lose  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  imaginary  figure  and  the  real 
person,  and  sometimes  disputed  with  sitters  that  they 
had  been  with  me  the  day  before.  At  last  I  was  sure 
of  it,  and  then — all  is  confusion.  ...  I  lost  my 
senses,  and  was  thirty  years  in  an  asylum.'"* 

These  are  a  few  of  many  cases  that  might  be  cited 
to  show  that  sensations  often  exist  when  the  nerve 
that   leads   to   the   brain   is   not   stimulated.     If  we 

*  Ibid,  p.  46. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 49 

should  hear  a  bell  ring  when  the  rope  was  not  pulled, 
we  should  be  sure  that  the  same  effect  (swinging  of 
the  bell)  existed  as  when  the  rope  was  pulled.  So, 
likewise,  when  sensations  exist  in  the  manner  de- 
scribed above,  one  can  scarcely  help  believing  that 
the  bell  was  swinging  without  the  rope  being  pulled — 
that  there  was  the  change  in  the  nerve  center  that 
occasions  and  conditions  sensation  without  the  stimu- 
lation of  the  nerve  that  usually  causes  it. 

These  four  physical  antecedents,  then — the  excit^ 
ing  cause,  its  action  upon  the  nerve,  change  in  the 
nerve,  changes  in  the  brain — usually  precede  the  men- 
tal fact  that  we  call  sensation. 

If  now  you  were  asked  to  give  examples  of 
sensation,  would  you  mention  the  hearing  of  a  drum 
and  the  seeing  of  a  rose?  I  do  not  believe  you 
would.  Let  us  run  over  the  series  of  facts  that  re- 
sult from  the  beating  of  a  drum — vibrating  air,  action 
upon  the  auditory  nerve,  change  all  along  the  audi- 
tory nerve,  change  in  the  brain — and  see  if  we  can 
not  distinguish  between  the  next  term,  the  sensation, 
and  the  hearing  of  the  drum.  If  you  beat  a  drum  in 
the  presence  of  a  new-born  babe, will  he  hear  it?  No; 
he  will  have  a  sensation  of  sound,  but  he  will  not  hear 
ike  drum.     We  may  have  sensations  of  sound,  and  not 


15©  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOtOGY. 

hear  anything;  sensations  of  color,  and  not  see  any- 
thing; sensations  of  smell,  and  not  smell  anything; 
sensations  of  touch,  and  not  touch  anything ;  sensa- 
tions of  taste,  and  not  taste  anything. 

What  do  you  mean  when  you  say  you  see  an 
apple  ?  You  mean,  among  other  things,  that  you  see 
a  round  object,  good  to  eat,  and  with  a  pleasant  odor 
when  brought  near  the  nose.  Do  you  see  its  odor? 
No  ;  you  learn  the  odor  of  things  through  the  sense 
of  smell.  Do  you  see  its  taste?  Again,  no;  you 
learn  the  taste  of  things  through  the  sense  of  taste. 
Do  you  see  its  roundness  ?  No ;  you  learn  the  shape 
of  things  by  the  sense  of  touch  and  the  muscular 
sense.  How,  then,  are  you  able  to  know  by  sight 
alone  that  an  object  before  you  has  a  certain  shape 
and  taste  and  odor  ? 

To  answer  that  question,  suppose  you  ask  your- 
self what  a  man  would  know  of  an  apple  who  saw 
one  for  the  first  time,  and  who  had  never  heard  of 
one  before.  He  would  know  its  shape,  but  he  would 
know  nothing  of  its  odor  and  taste.  If  he  tastes 
and  smells  the  apple,  the  next  time  he  sees  an  object 
resembling  it  closely  in  looks,  it  will  be  likely  to 
occur  to  him  that  it  resembles  it  in  taste  and  smell 
also — in  other  words,  that  it  is  an  apple. 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  151 

There  is,  you  observe,  a  great  difference  between 
the  experience  of  color  which  you  have  when  you 
are  looking  at  an  apple  and  the  ideas  of  odor  and  taste 
that  it  suggests.  The  experience  of  color  is  a  present 
sensation;  the  ideas  of  odor  and  taste  which  it  suggests 
are  recollections  of  past  seyisations  of  taste  and  smell. 

We  are  now  ready  for  the  definition  of  sensation. 
A  sensation  is  that  simple  mental  fact  that,  under 
normal  circumstances,  directly  follows  the  last  change 
in  the  brain  in  consequence  of  the  stimulation  of  a 
sensory  nerve. 

Note  carefully  the  italicized  words.  I  say  ''di- 
rectly follows."  If  we  bear  that  in  mind,  we  shall 
not  confuse  the  sensation  with  what  it  suggests.  The 
color  of  an  apple  suggests  its  taste  and  odor;  but  until 
you  actually  taste  and  smell  it,  its  taste  and  smell  are 
not  sensations,  because  they  do  not  directly  follow 
the  last  change  in  the  brain  resulting  from  the  stimu- 
lation of  a  sensory  nerve.  The  only  thing  that 
directly  follows  the  last  change  in  the  brain  is  the 
sensation  of  color;  the  thought  of  the  taste  and 
smell  of  the  apple  are  the  result  of  the  sensation,  so 
that  this  change  in  the  brain  makes  you  think  of  its 
smell  and  taste  through  the  sensation,  or  indirectly. 

If  we  bear  in  mind  the  significance  of  the  word 


152  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

"simple,"  it  will  save  us  from  the  same  mistake. 
When  you  are  seeing,  hearing,  touching,  and  tasting 
things,  your  experience  is  not  simple.  You  have  a 
sensation,  and  with  it  the  recollection  of  sensations 
that  it  suggests. 

We  can  now  see  how  we  can  have  a  sensation  of 
sight  without  seeing  anything.  If  you  are  walking 
along  a  road,  the  various  objects  within  the  range  of 
your  vision  probably  produce  sensations  of  sight. 
Will  you  see  the  objects  in  case  they  do?  That 
depends  on  whether  they  suggest  the  recollection  of 
past  sensations.  But,  as  we  know,  what  we  recollect 
depends  on  what  we  attend  to.  When,  therefore,  you 
are  absorbed  in  thought,  the  chances  are  that  you  will 
see  very  few  of  the  objects  that  give  you  sensations  of 
sight. 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  results  reached  in  the  last  lesson. 

2.  What  would  be  the  logical  course  if  one  intended  to 
write  a  comprehensive  treatise  on  the  subject  of  Psychology, 
and  why  ? 

3.  Show  that  a  large  part  of  our  knowledge  takes  its 
rise  in  sensations. 

4.  Give  examples  of  sensations  from  each  of  the  five 
senses,  discriminating  carefully  their  physical  antecedents 
from  the  sensation. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  153 

5.  Which  of  these  physical  antecedents  may  be  dis- 
pensed with  without  preventing  the  sensation  from  existing, 
and  why  ? 

6.  Define  sensation.  Distinguish  it  from  what  it  sug- 
gests. 

7.  How  can  we  have  sensations  of  sight  without  seeing 
anything  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  How  would  you  explain  the  sensations  experienced 
in  dreaming? 

2.  If  an  explosion  were  to  take  place  on  a  desert,  in  the 
absence  of  any  mind,  would  there  be  any  sound  ? 

3.  Is  there  any  ambiguity  in  the  words  "  sound,"  "  color," 
"  taste,"  "  smell,"  etc.  ? 

4.  What  is  the  real  difference  between  physical  and 
mental  facts? 


154  I^BSSONS  I*N  PSYCHOtOGY. 

LESSON  XV. 

SENSATION. 

T    ET  US  imagine  ourselves  taking  a  walk  on  one  of 
-■— '    those  perfect  days  in  June.    The  fresh,  delicate 
green  of  the  trees,  the  songs  of  birds,  and  the  odors  of 
a  thousand  flowers  and  blossoms,  delight  us.     But  in 
the  midst  of  our  enjoyment  the  subject  of  the  last 
lesson  occurs  to  us.    We  cease  to  enjoy ;  we  begin  to 
think.    We  ask  each  other  if  the  conclusions  reached 
in  the  last  lesson,  which  seemed  so  true  as  we  worked 
them  out  by  gaslight,  really  do  hold  of  the  gorgeous 
panorama  that  lies  spread  out  before  us.     Is  the  deli- 
cate green  of  the  trees,  the  deep  blue  of  the  skies, 
merely  a  web  of  our  own  mental  facts,  a  garment  of 
our  own  making,  with  which,  unconsciously  to  our- 
selves,  we    have   covered    up    the   unsightliness   of 
nature?  Are  the  so-called  songs  of  birds  merely  echoes 
in  our  own  souls  of  soundless  motions  without?     In 
one  word,  are  the  colors  and  sounds  and  odors  that 
seem  to  fill  th-e  scene  before  us  only  mental  facts — 
things  that,  like  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  hopes  and 
fears,  that  make  up  our  conscious  life,  exist  in  our  own 
9ninds,  and  nowhere  else? 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  1 55 

Whatever  reason  may  say,  our  first  Impulse  is  to 
answer  with  an  emphatic  negative.  But  as  wt  follow 
in  imagination  the  vibrations  of  air  radiating  from  the 
birds  in  every  direction,  and  the  waves  of  light  from 
the  leaves  of  the  trees,  we  are  forced  to  conclude  that 
leaves,  songs  of  birds,  blossoms  and  flowers  are  only 
exciting  causes  of  eflfects  which  appear  in  our  con- 
scious life  as  sensations. 

But  the  thought  is  unwelcome.  We  had  supposed 
ourselves  looking  at  green  trees  and  velvety  hills  and 
a  blue  sky ;  our  reasoning,  like  the  wand  of  an  envious 
magician,  seems  to  strip  the  world  of  its  beauty,  and 
leave  us  in  the  presence  of — we  know  not  what.  We 
struggle  to  get  away  from  it.  We  feel  as  though  an 
old  friend,  the  recollection  of  whose  voice  mingles 
with  the  earliest  memories  of  our  childhood,  had  sud- 
denly begun  to  speak  to  us  in  an  unknown  tongue — 
or  rather  that  the  tones  and  language  with  which  we 
had  thought  ourselves  entirely  familiar,  and  which  liad 
seemed  to  signify  the  most  precious  things  in  life,  had 
suddenly  shivered  into  meaningless  noises — had  be- 
come "  sound  and  fury,  signifying  nothing." 

In  our  desire  to  keep  the  world  we  have  known,  we 
first  betake  ourselves  to  words.  We  bethink  ourselves 
of  our  studies  in  physics,  and  say  that,  although  sounds 


156  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

and  colors  are  sensations,  yet  there  are  sounds  and 
colors  in  nature.  Undoubtedly,  but  of  what  kind? 
The  sounds  in  nature  are  vibrations  of  air ;  the  color St 
u7idulations  of  ether.  Are  these  what  we  think  of  when 
we  speak  of  sounds  and  colors?  If  so,  the  terms  with 
which  we  describe  sounds  and  colors  will  apply  to 
motions ;  when  we  are  speaking  of  sounds  and  colors, 
we  are  speaking  of  motions.  Is  it  true,  then,  that  when 
we  speak  of  sweet,  melodious  sounds,  we  mean  sweet, 
melodious  7notio7isf  Or  when  we  speak  of  rich, 
gorgeous  colors,  do  we  mean  rich,  gorgeous  motions  ? 
A  moment's  thought  convinces  us  that  the  things  we 
have  in  mind  when  we  use  these  terms  are  not  mo- 
tions at  all ;  the  colors  and  sounds  that  we  think  of  in 
ordinary  life — that  thrust  themselves  upon  our  notice 
every  moment — are  not  undulations  of  ether  and  vibra- 
tions of  air— are  not  things  that  the  world  learned 
about  only  after  centuries  of  investigation,  but  the 
colors  and  sounds  of  experience — sensations. 

Failing  in  this  attempt,  we  try  again.  We  say  that, 
although  the  colors  and  sounds  that  we  talk  about  are 
sensations,  yet  they  are  copies  of  facts  that  exist  in  the 
external  world.  The  colors  and  sounds  and  odors  of 
which  we  have  direct  knowledge  are  sensations ;  but 
as  we  know  how  an  object  looks  without  looking  at  it 


LKSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 57 

if  we  see  its  reflection  in  a  mirror,  so  the  sensations  of 
consciousness  give  us  exact  knowledge  of  the  world 
be5'ond  consciousness ;  they  are  the  reflections  of  ob- 
jects in  the  external  world.  The  green  that  seems  to 
be  spread  over  the  leaves  is  indeed  spread  over  it,  but 
the  green  that  we  have  direct  knowledge  of  is  in  our 
own  minds.  The  green  in  our  minds  is  the  sensation, 
the  green  of  experience,  the  copy;  the  green  of  the 
leaves  is  the  outside  reality — the  original. 

But  we  are  at  once  confronted  with  a  difficulty.  I 
see  your  picture  hanging  on  the  wall.  I  immediately 
recognize  it,  because  picture  and  original  are  both  be- 
fore me.  But  you  point  to  another — a  picture  of  a 
gentleman  whom  I  have  never  seen — and  ask  me  if  I 
think  it  good.  Of  cour.se  I  can  not  say,  since  I  have 
never  seen  the  original.  Before  I  can  say  whether  a 
picture  is  like  the  original,  I  must  have  seen  both.  As 
long  as  I  look  at  a  picture  of  which  I  have  never  seen 
the  original,  I  can  not  say  either  that  it  is  like  the  orig- 
inal, or  that  it  has  any  original  at  all.  How,  then,  can 
we  say  that  our  sensations  are  like  the  external  things 
which  cause  them  ? 

Before  we  began  the  investigations  of  the  last  les- 
son, we  thought  that  the  odors  and  sounds  and  colors 
of  which  we   have  direct   knowledge  were  physical 


158  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

facts,  external  to  the  mind.  But  we  learned  in  the  last 
lesson  that  these  supposed  physical  facts  are  not 
physical  facts  at  all.  In  order  to  stand  by  our  con- 
clusion, and  at  the  same  time  keep  our  belief  in  the 
character  of  the  external  world,  we  have  supposed  that 
there  are  parallel  series  of  facts — mental  facts  of  which 
we  are  conscious,  and  physical  facts  of  which  we  are 
not  conscious ;  the  one  a  copy,  the  other  the  original. 
But  it  is  now  evident  that  we  have  no  right  to  say  that 
our  sensations  are  copies  of  these  external  facts.  We 
are  conscious  of  the  one  set  of  facts ;  we  are  not  con- 
scious of  the  other.  Until  we  become  conscious  of 
both — that  is,  until  both  become  sensations — to  say 
that  one  is  a  copy  of  the  other  is  to  say  that  some- 
thing we  know  is  a  copy  of  something  we  do  not 
know. 

But  that  is  not  the  only  difficulty.  You  have  great 
skill  in  painting.  Suppose  I  .should  ask  you  to  make 
me  a  picture  of  Yankee  Doodle.  You  would  tell  me 
that  my  request  is  absurd,  would  you  not?  You  would 
say  that  sounds  can  resemble  sounds,  and  colors 
colors,  and  tastes  tastes,  but  that  there  is  such  utter 
unlikeness  between  sounds  and  colors  that  we  can 
not  use  language  intelligently  and  say  that  any  sound 
is  like  any  color.     Is  not  the  same  true  of  mental  and 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  159 

physical  facts?  In  what  sense  can  we  say  that  a 
mental  fact  is  a  copy  of  a  physical  fact — a  state  of  con- 
sciousness a  copy  of  something  that  is  not  a  state  of 
consciousness?  In  no  sense  whatever.  We  must 
say  either  that  the  world  of  sounds  and  tastes  and 
odors  and  colors  is  purely  subjective,  in  the  sense  of 
consisting  of  our  own  mental  facts,  or  else  that  the 
conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lesson  are  wrong. 

But,  apart  from  these  considerations,  there  are 
many  facts  that  make  any  other  conclusion  impossible. 
That  conclusion  is  that  what  we  call  the  attributes  or 
qualities  of  objects — tastes,  smells,  sounds,  colors, 
etc. — are  sensations  which  these  objects  produce  in 
our  minds  through  the  agency  of  our  nervous  systems. 
How  does  it  happen  that  I  can  make  the  world  look 
green  or  red  or  blue  or  yellow  by  looking  at  it  through 
green  or  red  or  blue  or  yellow  glass?  Or  that  I  can 
change  the  apparent  temperature  of  water  by  changing 
the  temperature  of  the  hand  I  put  in  it?  Or  that 
when  I  am  sick  nothing  tastes  as  it  does  when  I  am 
well?  Evidently  because  the  qualities  of  objects  are 
merely  ways  or  modes  in  which  the  objects  aflfect  us 
through  the  agency  of  the  nervous  system  ;  and  when- 
ever for  any  reason  a  different  effect  is  produced  upon 
the  nervous  system,  the  object  seems  to  have  a  dif- 


l6o  LESSONS   IN   PSYCiiOLOGV. 

ferent  quality  because  we  have  different  sensations. 
In  the  case  of  the  colored  glass,  the  nervous  system  is 
aflfected  diflferently  because  of  a  change  produced  by 
the  glass  upon  the  agent— light— that  acts  upon  the 
nen^ous  system.  In  the  last  case  spoken  of,  the  dif- 
ference in  taste  is  due  to  a  dijQference  in  the  condition 
of  the  nervous  system  itself,  in  consequence  of  the  dis- 
ordered condition  of  the  body.  Sometimes  the  quality 
we  attribute  to  an  object — in  other  words,  the  sensa- 
tions produced  by  it — depends  upon  the  part  of  the 
body  affected.  If  you  take  a  pair  of  compasses,  whose 
points  are  somewhat  blunted,  and  place  their  points  on 
the  forearm,  in  the  direction  of  the  length  of  the  arm, 
the  two  points  will  seem  as  one,  unless  they  are  more 
than  i}i  inches  apart.  But  placed  on  the  tip  of  the 
tongue,  the  two  points  are  distinguished  as  two  when 
they  are  as  much  as  .0394  of  an  inch  apart. 

These  facts  make  it  certain  that  the  quality  of  an 
object  is  not  something  attached  to,  or  inherent  in,  the 
object,  but  merely  the  mode  or  way  in  which  the  ob- 
ject affects  us  through  the  nervous  system. 

And  yet  we  can  not  say  that  everything  which  pro- 
duces a  change  in  the  nervous  system  produces  a 
change  in  the  sensation.  If  you  hold  a  one-pound 
weight  in  your  hand  when  your  arm  is  outstretched, 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  l6l 

a  friend  may  add  one-half  or  two-thirds  of  an  ounce — 
if  you  do  not  see  him — without  your  knowing  it.  Not 
until  the  added  weight  is  about  one-sixteenth  the 
original  will  you  perceive  the  difference.  And  you  will 
find  by  experiment  that  the  same  proportion  holds  if 
you  make  the  weight  in  your  hand  heavier — /.  e.,  if  it 
be  ten  pounds,  it  will  be  necessary  to  add  ten  ounces 
before  you  can  detect  the  difference. 

Such  facts  make  it  necessary  for  us  to  qualify  the 
conclusion  suggested  by  the  facts  before  considered, 
and  say  that,  whenever  the  change  produced  by  ob- 
jects in  the  nervous  system  reaches  a  certain  degree, 
that  change  will  be  followed  by  a  change  in  the 
sensations. 

But  an  interesting  question  here  arises — the  ques- 
tion as  to  whether  our  sensations  always  wore  the 
character  they  now  bear — the  character  of  seeming  to 
be  what  they  are  not — objective  qualities  of  objects, 
rather  than  subjective  effects  of  these  objects,  pro- 
duced through  the  nervous  system ;  or  whether  in  the 
beginning  of  our  conscious  life  they  appeared  to  be 
what  they  are — experiences  of  our  own  minds.  A  very 
slight  observation  of  a  new-born  child  will  be  suflBcient 
to  convince  us  that  his  sensations  do  not  seem  to  him 
as  ours  do  to  us.  Indeed,  as  we  have  seen  already,  it 
II 


1 62  I.BSSONS  IN  PSYCHOI^OGY. 

is  probable  that  in  the  beginning  of  our'mental  life  we 
have  no  definite  sensations.  Little  by  little,  a  child's 
sensations  become  definite;  little  b)'  little,  they  are  built 
up  into  the  qualities  and  attributes  of  the  external  world. 
How  is  it  done?  That  is  a  difiicult  question,  the 
answer  to  which  is  the  solution  of  the  problem  of  per- 
ception. But  before  we  can  attempt  to  consider  it,  we 
must  study  the  great  law  by  means  of  which,  in  part, 
the  consciousness  of  sensations  becomes  the  perception 
of  external  objects — the  law  of  the  association  of 
ideas. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Do  you  find  yourself  uuwilling  to  believe  that  colors 
sounds,  etc.,  are  sensations  ? 

2.  What  are  the  sounds  and  colors  spoken  of  by  physics? 

3.  Show  that  our  sensations  are  not  copies  of  physical 
facts. 

4.  Mention   other  facts  that  show  that  what  the  world 
appears  to  us  to  be  depends  on  changes  in  the  nervous  system. 

5.  Is  every  change  in  the  nervovis  system  followed  by  a 
change  in  the  sensation  ? 

6.  Do  a  child's  sensations  seem  to  be  qualities  of  objects? 

7.  What  is  the  problem  of  perception? 


tBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  163 

I^ESSON  XVI. 

ASSOCIATION   OP  IDEAS. 

T  F  you  think  about  anything,  no  matter  what,  you 
-*-  are  sure  to  find  yourself  thinking,  the  moment 
after,  of  something  connected  with  it.  Think  about 
the  last  school  you  attended,  and  you  may  think  of  a 
schoolmate,  or  of  some  of  the  books  you  studied,  or  of 
some  of  the  games  you  plaj'^ed.  '  Think  of  Napoleon, 
and  you  may  think  of  a  friend  who  lent  you  a  book 
about  him,  or  of  some  of  his  battles,  or  of  Alexander 
or  Caesar.  This  fact,  that  thinking  of  anything  tends 
to  make  us  think  of  something  else  connected  with  it, 
is  called  the  association  of  ideas. 

If  you  watch  the  course  of  your  thoughts  for  an 
hour,  you  will  find  that  there  are  very  different  kinds 
of  connection  between  the  ideas  recalled  and  the  ex- 
periences that  recall  them.  If  5''ou  think  of  a  hill,  it 
may  make  you  think  of  a  walk  you  took  there  last 
night,  or  of  one  like  it  near  your  own  home.  The 
thought  of  the  hill  makes  you  think  of  the  walk  you 
took  there,  because  when  you  were  taking  the  walk 
you  thought  of  the  hill.     In  other  words,  the  thought 


l64  I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

of  the  hill  and  the  thought  of  the  walk  were  in  your 
mind  at  the  same  time.  The  thought  of  the  hill  makes 
you  think  of  one  like  it  near  your  home,  not  because 
you  have  ever  seen  or  thought  of  them  both  at  the 
same  time  before,  but  because  they  are  like  each  other. 
Association  of  the  first  kind — association  by  con- 
tiguity, as  it  is  generally  called — is  sometimes  called 
mechanical  association  ;  and  I  think  it  will  be  useful 
for  us  to  remember  both  names,  and  the  reasons  for 
them.  It  is  called  association  by  contiguity  because 
contiguity  means  nearness,  and  the  things  associated 
by  contiguity  were  thought  of  at  or  about  the  same 
time.  It  is  called  mechanical  association  to  contrast  it 
with  another  kind  of  association  called  logical  or 
rational.  When  the  thought  of  the  hill  makes  you 
think  of  one  like  it  near  your  own  home,  it  is  because 
there  is  an  inner  relation — similarity — and  not  a  mere 
external,  mechanical  relation  between  them.  But  if 
the  first  time  a  child  sees  a  Chinaman  and  a  steam- 
engine  he  sees  them  both  together,  the  next  time  he 
sees  one  of  them  he  will  be  likely  to  think  of  the 
other,  not  because  they  have  any  inner  connection,  but 
because  they  were  seen  at  the  same  time.  Hence  this 
kind  of  association  is  called  mechanical,  because  the 
things  associated  have  only  an  external  or  mechanical 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 65 

connection ;  it  is  called  association  by  contiguity  be- 
cause they  were  thought  of  at  or  about  the  same 
time. 

Evidently  the  connecting  link  in  the  case  of  things 
mechanically  associated  is  time ;  but  we  must  be  care- 
ful to  remember  that  the  time  which  forms  this  con- 
necting link  is  7iot  the  time  in  which  events  happen,  but 
the  time  i?i  which  we  think  of  them.  The  Declaration 
of  Independence  makes  you  think  of  the  Fourth  of 
July,  not  because  it  was  made  on  that  day,  but  because 
the  thought  of  the  two  has  been  in  your  mind  at  the 
same  time. 

But  in  order  that  we  may  associate  things  rationally 
or  logically,  we  must  be  able  to  perceive  some  inner 
relation  between  them.  Things  as  unrelated  as  it  is 
possible  for  things  to  be  in  this  world  may  be  brought 
vside  by  side  in  space;  and  if  so,  we  may  see  them  at  the 
same  time,  and  so  associate  them  mechanically.  But 
in  order  to  associate  them  logically  we  must  be  able  to 
apprehend  an  inner  relation  between  them — a  relation 
not  depending  on  accident  or  chance,  but  growing  out 
of  their  very  nature. 

Of  these  inner  relations,  besides  likeness,  the  re- 
lations of  cause  and  effect,  of  instrument  and  use,  of 
means  and  end,  of  premise  and  conclusion,  of  law  and 


l66  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

example,  at  once  occur  to  us ;  and  a  careful  study  of 
hem  will  enable  us  to  realize  the  contrast  between  the 
itmerness  of  logical  relations  and  the  outerness  of  me- 
chanical relations.  Two  peaches  can  not  but  be  like 
each  other — they  would  not  be  peaches  if  they  were 
not;  a  good  school  must  be  a  useful  agency  in  de- 
veloping the  minds  of  its  pupils ;  fire  must  throw  out 
heat  as  long  as  the  present  constitution  of  the  world 
remains  the  same.  In  all  these  cases  it  is  evident  that 
the  relation  is  not  external  or  accidental  or  casual,  but 
inner — growing  out  of  the  very  nature  of  the  things 
themselves. 

But  why  does  a  cause  make  us  think  of  its  effect ; 
a  means,  of  the  end  it  is  adapted  to  reach ;  an  instru- 
ment, of  its  use ;  a  premise,  of  a  conclusion?  Partly 
because  the  thought  of  the  two  has  been  in  the  mind 
at  the  same  time.  But  that  this  is  not  a  complete 
answer  is  evident  from  the  fact  that,  of  the  various 
thoughts  in  our  minds  at  the  same  time,  those  are 
rao.st  likely  to  recall  each  other  that  have  some  inner 
relation.  Of  the  things  we  think  of  during  the  course 
of  a  day,  most  of  them  pass  away  beyond  the  possi- 
bility of  recall,  because  they  are  meaningless,  isolated, 
disconnected — because  the  only  connection  between 
them   is  the  time  in  which  we  think  of  them.     Evi- 


IvESSONS   IN   rSYCHOLOGY.  167 

dently,  therefore,  there  is  something  in  the  fact  that 
thoughts  have  some  logical  connection  that  tends  to 
make  them  recall  each  other.  Let  us  see  if  we  can 
learn  what  it  is. 

We  know  that  anything  upon  which  we  fix  our 
minds  for  a  considerable  length  of  time — anything 
that  interests  us,  anything  that  for  any  reason  we  at- 
tend to — is  more  likely  to  be  recalled  than  the  things 
which  merely  flit  across  our  minds  like  shadows  across 
a  landscape.  But  the  things  that  have  an  inner  re- 
lation are  precisely  those  we  are  sure  to  attend  to, 
provided  we  apprehend  the  relation.  We  are  sure  to 
attend  to  them  in  the  first  place,  because  the  appre- 
hension of  relations  is  a  source  of  keen  intellectual 
pleasure.  We  have  seen  already  how  it  delights  the 
mind  to  have  a  lot  of  disconnected,  straggling  facts 
marshaled  into  compact  array,  each  one  dropping  into 
its  proper  place  in  relation  to  the  rest.  It  increases  our 
sense  of  power.  To  carry  a  load  of  facts  by  me- 
chanical association  has  been  aptly  compared  to  the 
carrying  of  food  "in  a  bundle  strapped  upon  the 
back;"  the  carrying  of  the  same  facts  by  rational  as- 
sociation, to  the  carrying  of  the  same  food  "eaten, 
digested,  and  wrought  over  into  the  bones  and  muscles 
which  hold  the  body  firm  and  solid."     Now,  whatever 


l68  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

adds  to  our  sense  of  power — whatever  gives  us  pleas- 
ure— is  sure  to  be  attended  to ;  and  the  greater  the 
feeling  of  power,  and  the  keener  the  pleasure  it  gives 
us,  the  greater  the  amount  of  attention  we  give  it. 

But  apart  from  this  the  apprehension  of  inner 
relations  is  of  the  greatest  practical  interest  to  us. 
The  ability  to  go  from  effects  to  causes  and  from 
causes  to  effects,  from  laws  to  examples  and  from 
facts  to  laws,  from  premises  to  conclusions  and  from 
particulars  to  premises,  to  adapt  means  to  their  ends 
and  instruments  to  their  uses,  not  only  marks  the 
great  difference  between  the  mind  of  civilized  man 
and  that  of  a  savage,  but  results  in  the  almost  infi- 
nitely greater  command  that  the  former  has  over  the 
resources  of  nature.  To  have  special  ability  in  the 
apprehension  of  the  inner  relations  of  things  is  to 
have  power  not  only  as  an  intellectual  possession,  but 
in  the  sense  of  ability  to  accomplish  the  things  that  men 
wish  to  accomplish  in  life.  And  this  is  another  rea- 
son why  we  are  sure  to  attend  to  things  when  we  per- 
ceive their  inner  relations  ;  whether  they  have  a  nat- 
ural interest  for  us  or  not,  they  have  an  acquired  inter- 
est, because  we  know  we  can  use  such  knowledge  in 
reaching  desired  results. 

These  two  causes  bring  a  third  one  into  operation. 


I<BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  169 

Because  of  these  two  causes  a  large  part  of  our  intel- 
lectual life  consists  in  the  search  for  inner  relations. 
Study,  as  we  first  conceived  it,  consisted  in  the  exer- 
cise of  mechanical  association.  But  both  as  students 
and  as  men  and  women  of  the  world  we  have  come 
to  have  an  entirely  different  notion  of  it.  We  have 
come  to  see  that  study — thought — consists  in  the  at- 
tempt to  a.pprehend  the  inner  relations  of  things  and 
to  see  that  progress — no  matter  in  what  direction — 
depends  upon  the  success  of  our  efforts.  In  this 
way  we  form  the  habit  of  noticing  the  inner  relations 
of  things,  even  when  we  do  not  see  how  the  knowl- 
edge is  likely  to  be  of  practical  value.  For  these 
three  reasons,  then  (i)  because  of  the  pleasure 
the  mind  derives  from  the  perception  of  inner 
relations;  (2)  because  of  the  practical  interest  such 
relations  have  for  us;  and  (3)  because  of  habit — 
we  are  more  likely  to  attend  to  things  between 
which  the  mind  perceives  them  than  to  disconnected 
facts.  The  reason,  therefore,  why  we  are  more  likely 
to  recall  things  associated  logically  than  we  are  to 
recall  any  other  facts  experienced  at  the  same  time  is 
because  the  former  are  more  closely  attended  to. 

We  are  left,  then,  with  two  great  laws  of  associa- 
tion :    The    law   of    association    by    contiguity   that 


lyo  I.E&SONS  IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

thoughts  or  ideas  or  experiences  that  have  been  in  the 
mind  at  or  about  the  same  time  tend  to  recall  each  other  ; 
and  the  law  of  association  by  similarity  that  similar 
thoughts  or  ideas  or  experiences  tend  to  recall  each 
other. 

Some  Psychologists  attempt  to  explain  association 
by  similarity  by  association  by  contiguity.  The  follow- 
ing quotation  from  Thomas  Brown  will  explain  their 
position  :  "A  ruff  like  that  worn  by  Queen  Elizabeth 
brings  before  us  the  sovereign  herself,  though  the 
person  who  wears  the  ruff  may  have  no  other  circum- 
stance of  resemblance ;  ...  it  is  necessary  only 
that  a  part  of  the  complexity  (the  Queen)  should  be 
recalled — as  the  ruff— to  bring  back  all  the  other 
parts,  by  the  mere  principle  of  contiguity.  .  .  . 
In  like  manner  we  might  be  able  to  reduce  every 
case  of  suggestion" — association — "from  direct  re- 
semblance to  the  influence  of  mere  contiguity." 

We  might  state  his  illustration  this  way :  ruff+ 
abcd,  abed  meaning  a  person  wearing  it  recalls 
ruff+^  f  g  h,  e  f  g  h  meaning  Elizabeth — because 
the  thought  of  Elizabeth  and  the  ruff  were  in  our 
minds  at  the  same  time. 

Others  explain  association  by  contiguity  by  associa- 
tion by  similarity.     The  same  example  can  be  used  to 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  171 

illustrate  their  position.  They  would  say,  granted 
that  ruff-f-^  bed  recalls  ruff+<?  f  g  ^''  because  there 
is  a  ruff  in  both  cases,  but  the  ruff  that  Elizabeth 
wore  is  not  the  one  we  see  now.  I<et  R  stand  for 
the  ruff  we  see  now  and  R'  for  the  ruff  worn  by 
Elizabeth,  and  we  can  symbolize  the  facts  in  this 
form  :  R  a  b  c  d  recalls  R'  e  f  g  h.  Stated  in  this 
form,  they  say,  it  is  evident  that  R  a  b  c  d  recalls  R'  e 
f  g  h  because  of  the  likeness  between  R  and  R' . 

I  think  we  shall  agree  that  the  latter  have  only 
explained  why  R  recalls  R' .  To  account  for  the  fact 
that  we  think  oi  e  f  g  h  also,  I  think  we  must  say  R' 
recalls  e  f  g  h  because  they  were  thought  of  at  the 
same  time. 

We  have,  then,  as  our  fundamental  law  of  associa- 
tion the  following:  One  thought,  idea,  or  experience 
tends  to  recall  similar  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences, 
and  all  other  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences  that 
zvere  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time.  Remembering 
the  influence  exerted  upon  association  by  the  appre- 
hension of  inner  relations,  we  see  that  the  above  law 
requires  qualification :  07ie  thought,  idea,  or  experience 
tends  to  recall  similar  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiences,  and 
all  other  thoughts,  ideas,  or  experiyices  that  were  in  the 
mind  at  the  same  time,  the  latter  with  a  force  propor- 


172  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

tionaie  to  the  7iuinber  and  clearness  of  the  inner  rela- 
tions apprehended  betweeyi  them  and  the  attention  we 
bestow  upon  them.  | 

> 
QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT.  ' 

1.  Illustrate  what  is  meant  by  association  of  ideas  from 
your  own  experience. 

2.  Illustrate  from  your  owu  experience  the  diflferent 
kinds  of  association. 

3.  What  is  the  difiference  between  logical  association 
and  association  by  contiguity  ? 

4.  Explain  the  diflferent  names  for  association  by 
contiguity. 

5.  Explain  the  various  reasons  why  things  logically 
associated  tend  to  recall  each  other. 

6.  State  the  two  laws  of  association  and  explain  the 
attempts  to  derive  one  from  the  other. 

7.  State  verbatim  the  formula  in  which  the  two  may  be 
stated. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Explain  ideas  in  the  phrase  association  of  ideas. 

2.  A  child  seeing  a  snake  licking  out  its  tongue,  said  it 
was  making  faces  at  him.  What  kind  of  association  was 
that? 

3.  I  read  to-day  the  following  sentence  from  Goethe : 
"  Take  care  of  the  beautiful,  and  the  useful  will  take  care  of 
it!;elf,"  and  at  once  thought  of  Spencer's  essay  on  "What 
Knowledge  is  of  Most  Worth."'    Why  ? 

4.  What  kind  of  associations  do  children  first  form  ? 


WESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 73 

LESSON  XVII. 

PERCEPTION. 

"\  T  7E  have  seen  already  that  all  knowledge  takes  its 
'  '  rise  in  sensation.  The  mental  history  of  every 
liuman  being  begins  with  its  first  sensation.  Before 
the  fir.st  sensation,  the  only  difference  between  a  hu- 
man being  and  any  other  growing  thing — a  tree,  for 
instance — so  far  as  mind  is  concerned,  consists  in  the 
fact  that  the  former  possesses  the  potentiality  of  mind. 
This  potentiality  first  begins  to  become  actuality  when 
the  human  being  experiences  its  first  sensations. 

But  although  knowledge  takes  its  rise  in  sensa- 
tion, it  by  no  means  follows  that  the  first  experience 
of  sensations  constitutes  the  beginning  of  knowledge. 
If  we  consider  what  knowledge  is,  we  shall  see  that, 
in  the  nature  of  the  case,  the  mind  must  have  sensa- 
tions before  it  knows  it  has  them.  I  do  not  mean 
merely  that  a  fact  must  exist  in  order  to  be  known. 
That,  of  course,  is  true  of  sensations,  but  more  than 
that  is  true.  Sensations  not  only  must  exist  in  order 
to  be  known,  but  they  may  exist — and  often  do — for 
a  considerable  period  before  they  are  known  ;  and  I 


174  I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

think,  if  we  realize  what  knowledge  is,  we  shall  see 
that  in  the  nature  of  the  case  this  must  be  so. 

What  is  it  to  know  a  thing?  It  is  to  put  it  into  a 
class,  is  it  not  ?  A  child  sees  a  menagerie,  and  fixes 
his  ej-es  on  an  animal  unknown  to  him.  In  what  does 
his  ignorance  of  it  consist?  In  his  inability  to  class  it. 
He  looks  at  it  steadily,  and  suddenly  shouts,  "Oh,  it  is 
an  elephant!"  What  has  happened?  How  is  it  that 
ignorance  has  given  place  to  knowledge?  He  has 
suddenly  noticed  the  resemblance  between  this  un- 
known object  and  certain  pictures  he  has  seen  in  his 
reading  book ;  he  has  put  it  into  a  class,  and  when  he 
has  classed  it  he  knows  it. 

This  putting  things  into  classes  constitutes  the  es- 
sence of  all  knowing.  Some  kinds  of  knowledge  we 
call  science — orderly,  systematic  knowledge — know- 
ledge of  laws  and  causes  and  principles ;  other  kinds 
we  call  unscientific,  because  in  these  cases  our  know- 
ledge is  unsystematic  and  disconnected.  But  whether 
we  know  scientifically  or  unscientifically,  in  order  to 
know  a  thing  we  must  classify  it,  and  in  the  act  of 
classification  consists  our  knowledge  of  it.  Before 
Ne\vton,  no  one  understood  the  motions  of  the  moon. 
He  helped  us  to  understand  them — explained  them,  as 
we  say — by  helping  us  to  classify  them.     But  in  what 


I,ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI^OGY.  1 75 

does  our  understanding  of  them  consist  ?  Merely  in 
that  we  have  put  them  into  a  class  along  with  many 
familiar  facts.  As  the  child  felt  that  he  knew  the 
animal  in  the  menagerie  when  he  noticed  its  resem- 
blance to  the  pictures  he  had  seen  in  his  reading 
book,  so  we  feel  that  we  understand  the  motions  of  the 
heavenly  bodies  when  we  have  put  them  into  the 
same  class  with  familiar  facts,  such  as  the  falling  of  a 
leaf  or  the  dropping  of  a  stone.  As  to  the  cause  of 
these  motions — as  to  the  nature  of  the  force  upon 
which  they  depend — we  are  as  ignorant  to-day  as  were 
those  old  Chaldeans  who  used  to  stand  on  the  plains  of 
Chaldea  gazing  up  into  the  sky  with  that  wondering 
curiosit)'  which  has  been  so  well  called  the  mother  of 
knowledge.  We  call  it  gravity,  and  think  we  know 
all  about  it,  because  when  the  mind  sees  the  resem- 
blance between  a  strange  fact  and  familiar  facts  the 
sense  of  mystery  is  gone.  Suppose  we  should  ask 
what  is  the  cause  of  death,  would  you  think  it  a  suf- 
ficient answer  to  say  that  all  things  die  ?  That  is  a 
precise  illustration  of  our  explanation  of  the  motions  of 
the  heavenly  bodies.  What  makes  the  heavenly  bodies 
move?  The  law  of  gravitation,  or  the  force  of  gravity, 
is  answered.  But  that  is  only  another  way  of  saying 
that  all  bodies  move. 


176  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

If,  then,  all  knowing  is  merely  classifying — if  a 
thing  unknown  is  merely  a  thing  unclassified — the  first 
sensations  must  be  unknown.  A  boy  can  not  put  his 
first  piece  of  money  in  his  purse  with  the  rest  of  his 
money,  because  he  has  no  other  money.  So  the  first 
sensation  can  not  be  classed  with  preceding  sensations, 
because,  since  it  is  the  first,  it  has  no  predecessors. 
Knowledge,  then,  takes  its  rise  in  sensations,  not  in 
the  sense  that  the  first  experience  of  sensations  con- 
stitutes the  beginning  of  knowledge,  but  in  the  sense 
that  sensait07is  co7istiitde  the  first  material  upon  which 
the  mind's  powers  of  knowing  are  exerted. 

Observations  of  new-born  children  will  not  only 
confirm  this  reasoning,  but  will  lead  us  to  suppose  that 
for  some  little  period  in  the  beginning  of  a  child's  life 
there  is  no  knowledge  of  sensations.  Knowledge  be- 
gins with  attention.  Not  till  the  child  attends  to  his 
sensations  can  he  be  said  to  know  them  in  any  proper 
sense  of  the  word.  But  what  shall  we  say  of  these 
sensations  before  they  are  known?  What  character- 
istics do  they  have?  None  whatever.  Our  sensations 
are  this  rather  than  that — sensations  of  color  rather 
than  sensations  of  sound — through  being  known.  Be- 
fore they  are  known — before  they  are  individualized 
through  being  attended  to  and  classed — we  can  call 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  177 

them  sensations  of  sound,  for  example,  only  in  the 
sense  that  they  are  occasioned  by  the  stimulation  of 
the  auditory  nerve.  We  speak  of  this  sensation  and 
that  idea  because  we  have  fixed  our  attention  upon  the 
fact  so  individualized,  and  have  chosen  to  consider  it 
as  a  whole.  But  all  the  experiences  we  have  at  any 
moment  are  parts  of  one  indivisible  whole,  and  such 
distinctness  as  they  have  is  the  result  of  a  gradual 
process  of  difierencing  brought  about  by  attention  and 
classification.  Ward  well  says :"  It  is  impossible  for 
us  now  to  imagine  the  effects  of  years  of  experience 
removed,  or  to  picture  the  character  of  our  infantile 
presentations" — sensation.? — "before our  interests  had 
led  us  habitually  to  concentrate  attention  on  some  and 
to  ignore  others,  whose  intensity  thus  diminished  as 
that  of  the  former  increased.  In  place  of  the  many 
things  which  we  can  now  see  and  hear,  not  merely 
would  there  then  be  a  confused  presentation  of  the 
whole  field  of  vision,  and  of  a  mass  of  indistiuguished 
sounds,  but  even  the  difference  between  sights  and 
sounds  themselves  would  be  without  its  present  dis- 
tinctness. Thus  the  further  we  go  back,  the  nearer 
we  approach  to  a  total  presentation" — experience — 
".     .     .     in  which  differences  are  latent." 

This,  then,  is  the  material  first  presented  to  th^ 
13 


178  I.BSSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

mind — an  undifferenced,  unindividualized, confused  a- 
definite  mass  of  sensations ;  this  is  the  material  first 
presented  to  the  mind  through  the  senses.  But  what 
do  the  senses  seem  to  tell  us  now  ? 

Put  an  apple  on  your  table  and  sit  far  enough 
away  from  it  to  prevent  it  from  affecting  any  sense 
but  the  sense  of  sight.  What  do  you  learn  about  it 
through  the  sense  of  sight  ?  Merely  its  color.  But 
what  is  color?  A  quality  of  objects,  we  should  have 
said  a  little  while  ago.  But  have  we  not  seen  that 
this  quality  of  objects,  this  color  of  the  apple,  is 
simply  a  sensation,  a  state  of  our  minds?  A  sen- 
sation, we  have  seen,  is  that  simple  mental  state  that 
directly  follows  the  last  change  in  the  brain  that  re- 
sults from  the  stimulation  of  a  sensory  nerve.  Is 
any  nerve  stimulated  in  this  case  ?  Yes ;  the  optic 
nerve.  The  waves  of  light  strike  the  retina  of  the 
eye  and  cause  a  change  in  it,  and  this  in  the  adjacent 
particles  of  the  optic  nerve,  and  these  in  the  particles 
next  to  them, and  soon  until  the  brain  is  reached;  and 
then — what  happens  then?  Why  then,  as  we  have 
seen,  there  follows  a  sensation  of  color. 

Close  your  eyes  now,  and  request  a  friend  to  bring 
the  apple  near  enough  to  you  to  enable  you  to  smell 
it.     What  does  the  sense  of  smell  tell  you  about  it? 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 79 

Simply  its  odor.  But  what  is  odor  ?  Is  it  not  evident 
that  it  is  simply  a  sensation?  It  is  unnecessary  to 
repeat  the  reasonings  of  the  last  paragraph.  We  have  ^ 
again  a  stimulation  of  a  sensory  nerve,  a  change  all 
along  the  nerve,  a  change  in  the  brain,  and  then — a 
sensation. 

Evidently  all  that  the  senses  tell  us  of  objects  is  the 
sensations  they  produce  in  our  minds.  But  this  is 
not  what  they  seem  to  tell  us.  They  seem  to  tell  us 
of  objects,  and  of  these  (i)  as  having  definite  qualities, 
and  (2)  occupying  a  definite  position  in  space.  The 
apple  that  the  sense  of  sight  reveals  to  me  is  an  ob- 
ject having  certain  definite  qualities — round,  red, 
mellow,  etc. — and  in  a  certain  place — on  the  window- 
sill  some  ten  feet  away. 

In  some  way,  then,  those  undifferenced,  unindivid- 
ualized,  indefinite  sensations  with  which  our  mental 
life  began  not  only  become  definite,  but  are,  as  it  were, 
projected  out  of  us,  and  regarded  as  qualities  of  ex- 
ternal objects.  How  do  they  get  these  three  charac- 
teristics? (i)  How  does  a  sensation  that  was  not 
first  known  even  as  a  sensation  of  color,  for  exam- 
ple, become  known  as  a  definite  sensation  of  color — 
say  a  particular  shade  of  red  ?  (2)  How  does  it  be- 
come localized — projected  at  a  certain  distance — say 


l8o  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI<OGY. 

ten  feet  away?  (3)  How  does  it  become  regarded 
as  a  quality  of  an  external  object — as  an  apple?  To 
answer  these  three  questions  is  to  explain  the  prob- 
lem of  perception. 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  conclusions  reached 
in  the  two  lessons  on  sensation. 

2.  In  what  does  knowledge  consist  ? 

3.  What  is  the  difference  between  scientific  and  unscien- 
tific knowledge  ? 

4.  Show  that  the  first  sensations  can  not  be  known. 

5.  What  is  meant  by  the  assertion — knowledge  takes  its 
rise  in  sensation  ? 

6.  What  is  the  character  of  our  first  sensations  ? 

7.  State  and  explain  the  quotation  from  Ward. 

8.  What  do  the  senses  tell  us  of  objects  ? 

9.  What  do  they  seem  to  tell  us  ? 

10.    State  the  three  questions  which  a  theory  of  perctp' 
tion  has  to  answer. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  If  the  first  sensation  is  not  known,  how  can  the 
knowledge  of  sensations  originate  ? 

2.  Is  the  assertion,  knoivUdge  begins  with  sensaiion, 
equivalent  to  all  our  ideas  were  derived  from  sensations  ?  If 
not,  what  is  the  difference  ? 

3.  What  is  the  meaning  of  the  terms,  stnsationalist,  em- 
piricist, transcendentalist  f 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  l8l 

LESSON  XVIII. 

PERCEPTION. 

"\T  7E  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  what  the  senses 
*  '  really  tell  us  of  objects  is  how  they  affect  tis — 
the  sensations  produced  by  them  in  otir  minds — but  that 
they  seem  to  tell  7is  of  objects  themselves  as  having  cer- 
tain qualities,  and  occupying  a  certain  place. 

What  does  the  mind  do  to  its  sensations  of  color 
and  smell  and  taste  in  order  to  perceive  colors,  odors, 
and  tastes  as  qualities  of  objects?  It  groups  them  to- 
gether, does  it  not  ?  When  you  look  at  an  apple,  you 
group  its  color,  taste,  and  smell  together  as  qualities 
of  one  object.  SuU)'- puts  it  as  follows:  "Sense-im- 
pressions"— he  means  sensations — "are  the  alphabet 
by  which  we  spell  out  the  objects  presented  to  us.  In 
order  to  grasp  or  apprehend  these  objects,  these  letters 
must  be  put  together  after  the  manner  of  words.  Thus 
the  apprehension  of  an  apple  by  the  eye  involves  the 
putting  together  of  various  sensations  of  sight,  touch, 
and  taste.  This  is  the  mind's  own  work,  and  is  known 
as  perception."  He  compares  sensations  to  the  letters 
of  the  alphabet ;  and  precisely  as  in  reading  we  put  the 
l<»ttei6  b,  r,  i,  c,  k,  together  and  read  'brick,"  so,  in 


l82  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

perceiving,  we  put  together  certain  sensations  and  so 
gain  a  knowledge  of  objects. 

But  this  grouping  of  sensations  together  is  not  all 
we  do  when  we  perceive.  As  long  as  your  sensations 
seem  to  be  sensations,  you  do  not  perceive.  You  per- 
ceive only  when  they  seem  to  be  what  we  have  seen 
they  are  not — qualities  actually  forming  a  part  of  the 
objects  in  the  world  about  us,  or  states  of  our  own 
bodies. 

To  perceive,  then,  is  to  group  sensations  together 
and  regard  them  as  qualities  of  external  objects.  But 
is  that  entirely  accurate  ?  When  we  perceive  an  apple 
by  the  sense  of  sight,  we  group  the  sensation  of 
color  with  recollections  of  past  sensations — taste, 
smell,  feeling  of  mellowness,  etc. — do  we  not?  Strictly 
speaking,  then,  what  we  do  when  we  perceive  is  to 
make  a  group  consisting  of  one  or  more  sensations, 
and  ideas  of  sensations,  and  regard  the  group  as  qual- 
ities of  an  external  object. 

The  state  of  mind  that  results  from  perception  is 
called  a  percept.  We  must  be  careful  not  to  confuse 
this  with  image.  While  you  are  looking  at  an  apple 
your  state  of  mind  is  a  percept ;  when  you  turn  your 
head  away  and  think  about  it,  the  picture  that  you 
form  of  it  is  an  image. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  183 

In  order  to  reach  a  percept,  the  mind  must  take 
three  steps:  (i)  it  must  be  conscious  of  a  definite 
sensation;  (2)  it  must  group  this  sensation  with  images 
of  sensations  already  experienced;  and  (3)  it  must 
think  of  these  sensations  as  qualities  of  objects  having 
a  more  or  less  definite  position  in  space. 

To  explain  the  problem  of  perception,  then,  is  to 
explain  how  the  mind  comes  to  take  these  three  steps. 

I  have  no  intention  of  attempting  to  explain  per- 
ception. It  is  universally  conceded  to  be  one  of  the 
most  difficult  subjects  in  Psychology.  My  purpose 
will  be  accomplished  if  we  can  get  a  definite  idea  of 
the  problem  that  a  theory  of  perception  undertakes  to 
solve,  and  some  general  idea  of  what  seems  to  me  the 
true  solution. 

Perhaps  it  will  be  more  convenient  to  consider  the 
problem  of  perception  in  the  form  in  which  it  was 
stated  in  the  last  lesson,  although  the  two  forms  are 
in  fact  identical,  as  a  little  consideration  will  enable  us 
to  see. 

(i.)  How  is  it  that  the  mind  becomes  conscious  of 
definite  sensations — that  unindividualized  sensations 
come  to  be  individualized,  and  known  as  such  and  such 
sensations?  That  question  our  study  of  attention 
enables  us  to  an.swer.  If  a  child's  experience  consisted 


1 84  I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

entirely  of  sensations  of  sound,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
the  loudest — those  having  the  character  of  greatest  in- 
tensity— would  be  sure  to  be  attended  to  in  the  course 
of  time.  They  would  stand  out  in  the  foreground  of 
his  consciousness — would  be  individualized — and  thus 
lose  the  indefiniteness  that  characterizes  a  child's  ex- 
periences in  the  beginnings  of  its  mental  life.  Evi- 
dently, also,  the  pleasurable  or  painful  character  of  its 
experiences  would  have  the  same  effect,  since  it  is 
likewise  a  cause  of  attention. 

(2.)  How  is  it  that  these  sensations  become  lo- 
calized— projected  into  our  bodies  and  into  the  ex- 
ternal world?  Very  young  children  evidently  do  not 
localize  their  sensations.  When  painful  operations  are 
performed  upon  them,  their  hands  do  not  need  to  be 
held,  since  they  do  not  know  where  the  pain  is.  How 
do  they  finally  come  to  get  this  knowledge? 

Whether  your  little  finger  is  pinched,  or  touched, 
or  burnt,  or  bruised,  or  cut,  you  locate  the  sensation  in 
it — you  know  that  it  is  your  little  finger  that  is  af- 
fected. How  is  it  that  you  are  able  to  do  this?  How 
is  it  that  when  such  different  sensations  as  those  of  a 
mere  touch,  a  burn,  a  bruise,  a  cut,  a  pinch,  report 
themselves  to  consciousness,  you  are  able  to  refer  them 
all  to  the  same  place  ?     Precisely  as  you  can  tell  what 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  1 85 

country  an  Irishman  comes  from  as  soon  as  you  hear 
him  talk.  There  are  tall  Irishmen  and  short  Irish- 
men, stout  Irishmen  and  lean  Irishmen,  Irishmen  that 
are  handsome  and  Irishmen  that  are  homely;  but,  no 
matter  how  widely  they  differ  in  appearance,  as  soon 
as  you  hear  one  talk  you  know  that  he  hails  from  the 
land  of  Erin.  And  precisely  as  the  brogue  of  an  Irish- 
man enables  you,  as  soon  as  you  hear  him  speak,  to  tell 
his  nationality,  so,  since  we  are  able  to  locate  in  the 
same  place  the  various  sensations  that  arise  in  con- 
nection with  the  little  finger,  those  sensations  must 
have  so7ne  characteristic  in  co^mnon.  A  mere  touch,  a 
burn,  a  bruise,  a  cut,  a  pinch,  differing  as  widely 
as  they  do,  could  not  be  referred  to  the  same 
place  if  they  did  not  speak  a  language  that  betrayed 
their  origin.  The  characteristic  of  our  sensations — the 
brogue  which  betrays  their  origin  —by  means  of  which 
we  are  able  to  locate  them,  first  in  our  bodies,  and 
some  of  them  afterwards  in  the  external  world,  is 
called  the  local  sign. 

But  perhaps  the  first  time  you  noticed  the  brogue 
of  an  Irishman  you  did  not  know  what  country  he 
came  from.  If  you  had  noticed  it  in  a  dozen  or  fifty 
people,  without  knowing  they  were  from  Ireland,  you 
would  not  have  kmown  that  it  was  a  mark  of  Irisk 


l86  LESSONS   IN   PSYCH01<0GY. 

nationality.  Not  until  you  knew  that  there  was  such 
a  country  as  Ireland,  and  that  the  men  whose  brogue 
you  noticed  were  natives  of  it,  could  the  brogue  of  an 
Irishman  mean  to  you  what  it  means  now.  Granted, 
then,  that  the  sensations  we  receive  from  the  various 
parts  of  our  bodies  have  each  their  own  local  signs, 
these  local  signs  are  still  characteristics  of  sensations; 
how  can  the  mind  regard  characteristics  of  sensations 
as  signs  of  what  is  not  sensation?  Evidently  it  is  pos- 
sible only  as  the  mind  has  in  some  way  an  idea  of  the 
thing  signified.  As  a  brogue  could  not  mean  Irish 
nationality  if  we  did  not  know  there  is  such  a  country 
as  Ireland,  so  local  signs  could  not  be  signs  of  locality 
if  we  had  no  idea  of  space.  But  the  very  thing  we  are 
trying  to  explain  is  how  unlocalized,  unspatialized 
sensations  become  localized.  Are  we  to  say  that  they 
have  local  signs,  but  that,  in  order  that  these  signs 
may  have  any  meaning,  we  must  have  the  idea  of  space 
already?  Certainly  not;  for  by  supposition  all  that  we 
know  is  unlocalized  sensations.  But  if  we  had  no  idea 
of  space  before  the  apprehension  of  these  local  signs, 
and  if  we  must  have  it  in  order  to  use  them,  as  we  un- 
questionably do  in  localizing  our  sensations,  the  local 
signs  must  have  been  originally  apprehended  as  signs 
of  place.     You  can  not  explain  why  a  certain  brain 


I.ESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  187 

chauge  is  followed  by  sensation ;  all  you  can  say  about 
it  is  that  it  is  so.  Nor  can  you  explain  why  some  of 
these  sensations  are  sensations  of  color ;  when  we  say 
that  it  is  so,  we  have  reached  the  end  of  our  string. 
The  conclusion  to  which  our  reasoning  leads  us  is  that 
just  as  certain  brain  changes  are  followed  by  those 
mental  facts  which  we  call  sensations,  so  the  appre- 
hension of  certain  characteristics  of  our  sensations  is 
followed  by  the  apprehension  of  space.  We  are  able 
to  locate  our  sensations ;  we  could  not  do  it  in  the  be- 
ginning of  our  mental  life ;  we  could  not  locate  widely 
different  sensations  in  the  same  place  if  they  did  not 
have  some  common  characteristic — some  local  sign ; 
this  local  sign  could  not  be  to  the  mind  a  sign  of  place 
unless  the  idea  of  place  existed  before,  or  began  to  exist 
at  the  same  time  with  the  apprehension  of  the  local  sign; 
the  idea  of  place  did  not  exist  before;  therefore  it  began 
to  exist  at  the  same  time  with  the  apprehension  of  the 
local  sign.  Why  it  did  we  can  not  tell;  but  everything 
that  we  believe  rests,  in  the  last  analysis,  on  the  inex- 
plicable. 

Assuming  the  existence  of  local  signs,  and  a  native 
power  to  apprehend  them  as  signs  of  place,  we  can  see 
how  the  mind  would  gradually  form  an  idea  of  the 
place  occupied  by  the  body.     Certain  sensations  from 


1 88  IvSSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  various  parts  of  it,  each  having  its  own  local  sign, 
would  give  an  acco'int  of  the  different  localities  where 
the  nerve  originated  that  occasioned  them.  With  the 
idea  of  the  place  occupied  by  his  body,  the  child  would 
soon  form  an  idea  of  the  place  occupied  by  bodies 
around  him.  By  grasping  first  his  wrist  and  then  a 
stick,  the  place-occupying  quality  of  his  wrist  would 
naturally  be  transferred  to  the  stick. 

As  to  what  the  local  signs  consist  of,  there  is  con- 
siderable diversity  of  opinion.  Indeed,  it  is  a  question 
of  so  much  difi&culty  that  I  think  we  had  better  postpone 
the  discussion  of  it  until  a  more  fitting  time.  I  will  only 
add  that  only  the  sensations  of  sight  and  touch  and  the 
muscular  sense  seem  to  have  local  signs. 

(3.)  How  do  we  come  to  group  our  sensations  to- 
gether and  regard  them  as  qualities  of  external  ob- 
jects? 

Briefly,  because  they  occur  togetlier,  or  in  an  in- 
variable order.  Every  moment  of  our  waking  lives  we 
'  are  experiencing  sounds  and  touches  and  tastes  and 
smells  and  colors.  Those  which  we  are  in  the  habit 
of  experiencing  together,  or  in  connection  with  each 
other,  we  refer,  through  the  influence  of  the  laws  of 
association,  to  the  same  thing.  A  physician  named 
Cheselden  perforro^d  an  operation  upon  a  man  wli« 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  189 

was  born  blind,  which  restored  the  man's  sight.  When 
he  first  began  to  see,  everything  seemed  to  touch  his 
eyes.  Why?  Because  we  can  not  see  distance — be- 
cause what  we  call  seeing  distance  is  interpreting  the 
signs  of  distance — and  he  had  not  then  learned  the 
signs  of  distance.  He  knew  cats  and  dogs  perfectly  by 
the  sense  of  touch,  but  he  could  not  distinguish  them 
by  sight.  Why  ?  Because  he  had  not  connected,  by 
the  law  of  association,  the  way  a  cat  feels  with  the  way 
a  cat  looks.  Looking  at  a  cat  one  day  shortly  after 
his  sight  was  restored,  and  being  in  doubt  as  to  what 
it  was,  he  caught  hold  of  it  and  said,  "Ah,  pussie,  I 
shall  know  you  next  time."  Why?  Because  he  as- 
sociated the  impression  she  made  upon  his  mind 
through  sight  with  the  impression  made  through 
touch.  A  chijd  sees  a  robin  on  a  sunflower,-^  and 
hears  it  sing.  He  does  not  connect  the  odor  and  color 
of  the  sunflower  with  the  color  and  song  of  the  robin, 
because  they  do  not  habitually  occur  together.  If  every 
time  the  child  .saw  a  sunflower  a  robin  was  on  it,  and 
if  he  never  saw  a  robin  except  on  a  sunflower,  he 
would  connect  them  together  as  parts  of  one  whole. 
The  odor  and  feel  and  taste,  color  and  solidity  of  an 

*This  illustration  was  suggested  by  one  of  Ward's  in  the 
Encyclopaedia  Britanaica. 


igo  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOWGY. 

apple  are  all  grouped  together  because  they  invariably 
occur  together.  When  we  have  one  of  these  ex- 
periences, the  law  of  association  by  contiguity  makes 
us  think  of  the  rest. 

Summing  up,  then,  (i)  Attention  to  indefinite  sen- 
sations makes  them  definite — enables  us  to  take  the 
first  step  towards  the  formation  of  a  percept.  (2)  As 
these  sensations  become  definite,  the  mind  gradually 
becomes  conscious  of  local  signs  which  some  of  them 
possess,  and  by  a  native,  original  power  of  hiterpreta- 
iion  refers  the  se^isations  possessing  them  to  a,  certain 
place.  (3)  Through  the  laws  of  association  the  sensa- 
tions which  occur  together  are  referred  to  the  same 
place  and  regarded  as  qualities  of  the  same  thing. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

I.     Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  preceding 
lesson. 

a.    State  and  explain  Sully's  comparsion. 

3.  What  does  the  mind  do  to  its  sensations  when  it 
perceives? 

4.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  percept  and  an 
image  ? 

5.  Explain  how  the  mind  becomes  conscious  of  definite 
sensations. 

6.  Explain  how  it  comes  to  localize  them. 

7.  What  is  a  local  sign,  and  how  do  you  know  our  sensa- 
tions have  such  signs? 


LTrSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  TQt 

8.  How  is  it  that  the  mind  is  able  to  interpret  the  local 
signs  of  sensations  as  signs  of  place? 

9.  How  do  we  come  to  group  our  sensations  together 
and  regard  them  as  qualities  of  external  objects  ? 

10.    Bxplain  the  case  of  the  boy  whose  sight  was  restored 
by  an  operation  performed  by  Cheselden. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Show  the  identity  of  the  two  forms  in  which  the  prob- 
lem of  perception  has  been  stated. 

2.  When  you  are  in  a  car  that  is  not  moving  and  a  train 
passes  by,  your  own  car  seems  to  be  in  motion.    Why? 

3.  The  air  of  Italy  is  very  clear,  that  of  England  very 
thick.  What  sort  of  mistakes  would  an  Englishman  make  in 
judging  of  distance  in  Italy,  and  what  sort  would  an  Italian 
make  in  England,  and  why? 

4.  What  evidences  do  young  children  show  of  mistakes 
in  judging  of  distances  ? 

5.  A  child  of  three  wanted  her  mother  to  go  up  stairs 
with  her  in  order  that  she  might  get  the  stars.  Account  for 
her  mistake.  , 


192  IvESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI,OGY. 

LESSON    XIX. 
THE   CUL,TIVATION    OF   THE    OBSERVING   POWERS. 

T  T  7 HEN  the  mind,  in  the  way  described  in  the  last 
*  ^  lesson,  has  formed  an  idea  of  external  objects, 
the  perception  of  any  object  falls  into  two  stages ;  in 
the  first,  it  becomes  conscious  of  a  sensation ;  in  the 
second,  it  interprets  the  sensation — regards  it  as  the 
quality  of  some  particular  object.  In  perceiving  a  rose 
by  the  sense  of  smell,  for  instance,  we  are  first  con- 
scious of  a  sensation  of  smell,  and  then  we  refer  the 
sensation  to  a  rose.  In  some  cases  the  two  stages  are 
very  sharply  marked.  "What  is  that  I  smell? "  one 
asks.  When  that  question  is  asked,  he  is  simply  con- 
scious of  a  sensation — he  has  not  referred  it  to  its 
proper  object.  "Oh,  it's  a  heliotrope,"  a  minute  after; 
his  mind  has  taken  the  second  step — he  has  referred 
the  sensation  to  a  particular  object. 

This  enables  us  to  see  why  it  was  so  hard  for  us  to 
realize  that  we  are  not  conscious  of  the  objects  around 
us.  The  colors  and  tastes  of  objects  that  we  find  it  so 
hard  to  believe  that  we  are  not  conscious  of,  we  are 
conscious  of.     But  they  are  not  parts  of  objects  at  all; 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  I^ 

they  are  mental  facts.  We  liave  repeatedly  noticed 
the  broad  difference  between  mental  facts — that  are 
known  directly  only  to  the  person  experiencing  them — 
and  physical  tacts  that  are  open  to  the  observation  of 
all  men.  The  very  color  of  the  apple  that  you  see,  you 
think  your  neighbor  sees  also ;  but  you  are  mistaken ; 
the  color  of  the  apple  to  you  is  one  sensation — to  him 
another.  They  may  be  the  same  in  the  sense  of  being 
exactly  like  each  other,  though  that  will  be  the  case 
only  when  your  eyes  are  exactly  similar,  and  when  j^ou 
see  them  from  the  same  point  of  view — in  no  other. 

We  saw,  some  time  ago,  the  importance  of  learning 
the  facts  of  which  we  are  conscious,  since  they,  with 
necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs,  constitute  the 
foundation  of  everything  we  know  and  believe.  But 
a  good  building  requires  not  only  a  good  foundation, 
but  good  materials.  Be  your  foundation  ever  so  good, 
unless  your  materials  are  good,  your  building  will  be 
worthless.  Now,  the  knowledge  gained  through  the 
senses  is  the  material  out  of  which  our  knowledge  of 
the  external  world  is  constructed.  If  it  is  vague  and 
indefinite,  the  knowledge  based  upon  it  will  be  vague 
and  indefinite  too ;  if  it  is  inaccurate  or  false,  so  will 
the  knowledge  be  that  depends  upon  it. 

But  the  knowledge  gained  through  the  senses  may 
13 


194  I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

be  accurate  as  far  as  it  goes,  and  yet  be  very  imper- 
fect, because  of  it?  incompleteness.  A  blind  man  is 
shut  out  from  a  whole  world  that  is  open  to  us.  But 
he  whose  sense  of  sight  is  highly  cultivated  just  as 
certainly  has  daily  access  to  a  world  into  which  the 
ordinary  man  can  not  enter.  He  sees  a  thousand 
delicate  colors,  a  thousand  pleasing  gradations  of  light 
and  shade,  that  are  as  entirely  beyond  the  range 
of  the  ordinary  man's  vision  as  though  they  came 
through  a  new  sense.  Read  Ruskin's  essay  on  the 
sky,  and  then  say  if  the  sky  he  saw  and  the  sky  that 
you  and  I  see  are  the  same.  Clear  or  cloudy  is  the 
ordinary  description  of  the  sky.  That  would  be  as  in- 
adequate a  description  of  Ruskin's  sky  as  it  would  be 
of  Americans  to  say  that  they  are  all  men  and  women! 

To  Ruskin  the  sky  is  one  of  the  many  beautiful 

fcings  in  whose  beauty  his  trained  eye  enables  him  to 

revel — a  beauty  as  changing  and  as  various  as  the  face 

of  the  sea,  and  as  charming  as  the  beauty  of  those  we 

love. 

And  this  brings  us  to  another  reason  for  cultivating 
the  senses  of  our  pupils.  We  saw  in  the  first  lesson 
that  one  of  the  ways  in  which  the  study  of  Psychology 
would  help  us  is  that  it  would  help  us  to  see  what  we 
ought  to  aim  at.     Possibly  you  have  some  friend  who 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  I95 

does  not  see  that  the  development  of  the  aesthetic 
powers  of  his  pupils — of  their  power  to  perceive  and 
appreciate  beauty — is  an  important  part  of  their  edu- 
cation. If  he  does  not,  all  you  can  do  is  to  bid  him 
think  and  think  until  he  sees  that  a  mind  without  the 
power  to  perceive  and  enjoy  the  beauty  of  the  world 
is  as  truly  abnormal  and  one-sided  as  a  human  body 
would  be  without  arms.  If  you  should  go  to  the  famous 
gallery  in  Dresden,  you  might  look  at  Raphael's  im- 
mortal painting  and  see  nothing  to  admire.  But  if  you 
did  not,  the  fault  would  not  lie  in  the  picture.  The 
beauty  is  there ;  and  if  a  first  study  of  it  does  not  re- 
veal it,  you  should  go  and  go  again — make  it  your 
companion,  as  it  were,  and  compel  it  to  reveal  to  you 
the  charm  that  has  so  enraptured  all  the  lovers  of 
beautiful  paintings  since  Raphael's  time. 

In  like  manner,  if  he  does  not  see  that  the  power  to 
appreciate  the  beautiful  is  as  truly  to  be  desired  as  a 
good  memory  or  excellent  reasoning  powers,  you  can 
not  show  it  to  him,  nor  can  any  one.  But  if  he  will 
make  it  a  subject  of  careful  study,  he  will  come  to  see 
it  as  clearly  as  you  do  the  axioms  of  geometry. 

There  are,  then,  three  reasons  why  we  should  do 
what  we  can  in  the  way  of  training  the  senses  of  our 
pupils:  (i)  it  makes  their  knowledge  more  accurate; 


196  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

(2)  it  makes  it  more  complete;  and  (3)  it  tends  to  de- 
velop their  power  to  see  and  appreciate  the  beauty  of 
nature  and  art. 

But  what  can  we  do  in  the  way  of  cultivating  the 
observing  powers  of  our  pupils?  Of  course  all  we  can 
do  is  to  put  them  in  such  positions,  surround  them 
with  such  influences,  as  will  induce  them  to  observe 
more  closely,  carefully,  and  methodically  than  they 
otherwise  would  have  done.  You  remember  that 
voluntary  attention  is  of  little  value  unless  it  develops 
interests.  That  fact  enables  us  to  see  what  we  can 
do,  and  what  we  can  not  do,  in  the  way  of  cultivating 
the  observing  powers  of  our  pupils.  For  the  cultiva- 
tion of  the  observing  powers  really  consists  in  the 
formation  of  habits  of  close  and  careful  attention  to 
objects  perceived.  All  you  can  do  to  help  your  pupils 
form  such  habits  is  to  give  them  motives  for  attend- 
ing; but  if  they  only  attend  under  the  pressure  of 
your  motives,  if  the  objects  attended  to  open  up  no 
interesting  phases — if,  in  a  word,  voluntary  attention 
does  not  develop  interests — all  the  teaching  in  the 
world  will  not  make  them  good  observers.  In  the 
great  majority  of  cases,  however,  there  is  enough  of 
capacity  for  interest  in  natural  objects  to  make  that 
interest  an  eflf«ctive  motive  in  forming  habits  of  careful 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  1 97 

observation,  if  the  right  means  are  employed  to  de- 
velop it. 

Of  those  means,  perhaps  the  best  the  school 
authorities  as  a  rule  will  not  permit  you  to  employ. 
If  you  should  propose  to  close  your  school  the  middle 
of  Friday  afternoon,  to  take  a  walk  with  your  pupils 
through  the  woods  and  across  the  fields  for  the  pur- 
pose of  calling  their  attention  to  the  flowers  and  trees 
and  leaves  and  birds,  they  would  say  that  it  would  be 
a  waste  of  time.  They  think  it  altogether  preferable 
for  you  to  employ  your  pupils  in  memorizing  the 
names  of  the  capitals  of  the  various  countries  of  the 
world,  the  lengths  of  the  rivers,  the  heights  of  the 
mountains,  and  so  on.  But  if  you  can  not  go  with 
them,  you  can  induce  them  to  go  and  ask  them  to  tell 
you  what  they  saw.  The  knowledge  that  they  will 
have  to  give  an  account  of  what  they  have  seen  will 
be  a  motive  for  observing  more  carefully  than  they 
otherwise  would  have  done.  And  indeed,  unless  you 
are  yourself  a  loving  observer  of  nature,  your  com- 
pany would  be  of  little  service  to  them.  In  the 
School  of  the  Far-off  Future,  when  men  will  uni- 
versally realize  the  importance  of  the  proper  develop- 
ment of  the  various  faculties  of  the  mind  as  keenly  as 
trained  physiologists  to-day  realize  the  importance  of 


igS  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  health  of  the  various  organs  of  the  body,  in  that 
School,  I  believe  no  teacher  will  be  allowed  to  enter — 
at  least  in  the  primary  grades — until  he  has  stood  cer- 
tain tests  that  would  seem  very  curious  to  us.  Is  the 
face  of  nature  indifferent  to  him  ?  Are  her  smiles  in 
summer  and  her  frowns  in  winter  alike  lost  on  him  ? 
Can  he  look  upon  the  brooks  that  "fret"  along  their 
channels  and  the  sheep  and  the  cows  grazing  in  the 
meadows  and  the  wild  roses  growing  along  the  hedge 
rows  and  hear  the  songs  of  birds  with  no  feelings  of 
gladness  ?  If  so,  I  believe  he  will  be  regarded  as  lack- 
ing an  essential  element  of  a  teacher  of  boys  and  girls. 
The  ideal  teacher  of  the  ideal  school  will  look  on  the 
face  of  nature  with  something  of  the  same  fondness 
that  the  mother  looks  on  the  face  of  her  child.  As 
every  act  of  her  child  is  an  object  of  interest  to  the 
mother,  so  every  detail  of  nature  will  be  of  interest  to 
this  teacher,  and  he  will  watch  the  changes  that  pass 
over  the  face  of  nature  as  winter  gives  way  to  spring, 
and  spring  to  summer,  and  summer  gradually  dies 
away  into  autumn,  with  something  of  the  same  sad  and 
j'et  fond  interest  that  the  mother  watches  her  child  as 
she  travels  on  the  road  to  womanhood. 

But  we  are  not  living  in  the  future,  and  we  have  to 
take  ourselves  as  we  do  our  pupils — as  we  are,  and 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOL,OGY.  1 99 

make  the  best  of  us.  And  it  seems  to  me  that  if  we 
do  not  care  for  nature  we  may  realize  the  importance 
of  helping  our  pupils  care  for  it ;  and  to  do  this,  as 
I  have  said,  the  only  thing  we  can  do  is  to  give  them 
motives  for  attending  to  it  more  closely  than  they 
otherwise  would  have  done.  You  might  have  them 
make  lists  of  the  various  trees  and  flowers  and  plants 
and  birds  of  the  neighborhood,  and  note  the  dates 
when  the  trees  begin  to  put  forth  their  leaves  and  the 
flowers  to  bloom  and  the  birds  to  build  their  nests.  If 
the  birds  are  of  a  migratory  sort,  you  should  have 
them  observe  when  they  come  and  when  they  go,  and, 
in  any  case,  what  they  feed  on,  and  how  they  build 
their  nests.  You  should  have  a  school  museum  com- 
posed entirely  of  interesting  objects  that  they  have 
collected.  In  such  ways  you  may  induce  them  to  be- 
come familiar  with  every  bird  and  tree  and  flower  and 
plant  in  the  neighborhood,  and  during  the  process 
three-fourths  of  them  will  have  acquired  such  an  inter- 
est in  nature  as  will  make  them  good  observers  for 
life. 

You  can  turn  their  fondness  for  drawing  into 
account  in  the  same  direction.  Have  them  draw  not  pic- 
tures, but  real  objects  from  memory,  and  the  result 
will  be  that  the  next  time  the  object  is  seen  it  will  be 


200  I^KSSONS   IN    PSYCHOI^OGY. 

observed  much  more  closely  and  the  image  of  it  will 
be  fixed  in  the  mind  much  more  definitely. 

You  should  give  object  lessons.  But  if  these  les- 
sons are  to  have  any  value,  they  must  be  carefully  pre- 
pared and  carefully  given.  Some  teachers  seem  to 
imagine  that  there  is  a  virtue  in  an  object  lesson  as 
such;  but,  in  the  nature  of  the  case,  this  is  not  so.  If 
an  object  lesson  is  of  any  use  in  cultivating  the  ob- 
serving powers  of  your  pupils,  it  is  because  it  induces 
them  to  observe  more  closely  than  they  otherwise 
would  have  done ;  if  it  does  not  do  that,  it  will  leave 
their  observing  powers  just  where  it  found  them. 

An  object  lesson  may  be  made  to  serve  two  im- 
portant purposes  besides  furnishing  motives  to  your 
pupils  to  observe :  You  may  make  it  a  means  of  im- 
parting knowledge,  and  of  enlarging  the  range  of  their 
vocabulary. 

When  you  are  preparing  an  object  lesson,  you  should 
make  up  your  mind  in  precisely  what  ways  you  will 
reach  these  various  ends.  You  will,  of  course,  conduct 
it  for  the  most  part  by  asking  questions.  If  you  are 
dealing  with  little  children,  you  will  begin  by  asking 
them  questions  which  they  can  answer  with  ease,/<7r 
the  sake  of  interesting  them  in  the  lesson.  Children  like 
to  display  their  powers,  and  they  like  lessons  which 


tESSONS   IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  30I 

give  them  opportunities  to  do  that.  But  you  will  be 
careful  to  note  that  to  interest  them  in  the  lesson  is  by 
no  tneans  the  same  thing  as  interesting  them  in  the  object. 
You  interest  them  in  the  object  when  you  ask  them 
questions  about  it  that  they  can  not  answer,  but  which 
they  can  find  the  answer  to  by  more  careful  observa- 
tion. Accordingly,  a  part  of  your  preparation  of  an 
object  lesson  should  consist  of  such  a  careful  stud}'  of 
the  object  as  will  enable  you  to  observe  certain  qual- 
ities which  you  think  have  escaped  their  attention,  in 
order  that  3'ou  may  be  able  to  induce  them  to  stud}-  it 
more  carefully  than  they  have  ever  done  before,  and 
give  them  the  pleasure  of  finding  out  something  for 
themselves. 

You  should  carefully  decide  also  precisely  to  what 
extent  you  wish  to  enlarge  their  vocabulary.  If,  for 
instance,  you  are  giving  a  lesson  on  glass,  you  can  ar- 
range your  questions  so  as  to  get  them  to  tell  you  that 
they  can  see  through  it.  Then  you  can  tell  them  that 
things  which  can  be  seen  through  are  transparent,  and 
ask  them  to  name  as  many  transparent  things  as  they 
can  think  of. 

Compayre  quotes  a  sensible  paragraph  from  M. 
Buisson  on  this  subject:  "It  is  not  desirable  to  have 
the  object  le.sson  begin  and  end  at  a  fixed  hour.     Let 


202  I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

it  be  given  on  the  occasion  of  a  reading  or  writing 
lesson,  or  in  connection  with  the  dictation  exercise, 
with  the  lesson  in  history,  geography,  or  grammar.  If 
it  occupies  two  minutes  instead  of  twenty,  it  will  be 
only  the  better  for  that.  Often  it  will  consist,  not  in 
a  series  of  consecutive  questions,  but  in  one  spirited, 
precise,  and  pointed  question,  which  will  provoke  a 
reply  of  the  same  sort." 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lesson. 

2.  Into  what  two  stages  does  the  perception  of  any  object 
fall  ?    Illustrate. 

3.  Why  is  it  so  hard  to  believe  that  we  are  not  conscious 
of  external  objects  ? 

4.  State  and  illustrate  the  three  reasons  why  the  training 
of  the  senses  is  important. 

5.  What  can  we  do  in  the  way  of  training  the  senses  of 
our  pupils? 

6.  What  do  you  regard  as  the  best  means  of  helping  your 
pupils  form  habits  of  careful  observation  ? 

7.  How  should  an  object  lesson  be  prepared,  and  for  what 
purposes  should  object  lessons  be  given  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  classes  of  objects  are  children  most  interested  in? 

2.  Have  you  noticed  instances  in  which  the  home  sur- 
roundings of  children  exert  an  influence  upon  the  objects  they 
are  interested  in  ? 

3.  At  what  age  are  children  most  interested  in  objects? 

4.  Show  the  relation  between  the  conclusions  reached  in 
this  lesson  and  in  the  lessons  on  attention. 


I^ItSSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  20^ 


LESSON  XX. 


MEMORY. 


W  7'E  can  conceive  of  a  mind  with  no  capacity  ex- 
*  '  cept  the  power  to  experience  sensations — a 
mind  limited  to  the  present— a  mind  upon  which  its 
exi^eriences  leave  no  trace.  Such  a  mind  would  be 
destitute  of  the  power  of  reieiUio7i.  We  can  conceive 
of  a  mind  like  our  own  in  that  every  sensation,  every 
experience  leaves  "the  mind  different,  as  every  physi- 
cal change  leaves  the  body  different,"  but  unlike  ours 
in  that  an  experience  once  gone  never  returns.  As 
every  minute  in  that  stately  and  solemn  procession  that 
we  call  the  March  of  the  Years  goes  by  never  to  re- 
turn, so  we  can  conceive  that  the  shadow  of  those  ex- 
periences that  we  are  conscious  of  from  moment  to 
moment,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  each  of  them  left  the 
mind  different,  might  never  fall  across  our  conscious 
life.  Such  a  mind  would  be  without  the  power  of  re- 
production. We  can  conceive  of  a  mind,  also,  with 
laws  of  association  like  our  own — a  mind  constantly 
conscious  of  images  of  some  of  its  past  experiences, 
but  without  the  faintest  notion  that  they  were  inuxges — 


204  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

a  mind  with  the  power  to  make  pictures  or  copies  of 
past  events,  but  without  the  power  to  refer  them  to 
their  original.  Such  a  mind  would  be  destitute  of  the 
power  of  re-cognitio7i — re-knowing.  Or  we  can  con- 
ceive of  a  mind  with  the  power  to  reproduce  and  re- 
know  its  past  experiences,  but  without  the  power  to 
locate  them — a  mind  to  which  "yesterday,"  and  "last 
week,"  and  "last  month,"  and  "last  year"  would  mean 
the  same  thing — the  past, — a  mind  all  of  whose  recol- 
lections were  like  those  v/e  have  sometimes  been  con- 
scious of  when  we  have  seen  a  face  that  we  were  sure 
we  had  seen  before,  but  with  no  idea  of  where  or 
when.  Such  a  mind  would  be  without  the  power  of 
localization:^^ 

These  four  powers,  then — retention,  reproduction, 
recognition,  and  localization — constitute  the  power 
that  we  call  memory.  You  would  not,  indeed,  say  that 
you  do  not  remember  a  thing  when  you  are  not  think- 
ing about  it.  But  you  would  say  that  a  mind  that  did 
not  possess  all  four  of  these  powers  can  not  remember 
as  we  can,  and  that  one  without  the  last  two  can  not 
remember  at  all.  A  complete  explanation  of  memory, 
then,  would  require  a  complete  explanation  of  these 
four  powers.     But  I  shall  not  attempt  a  complete  ex- 

'  See  Baldwin's  Psychology,  page  151. 


LESSONi  IN   PSYCHOtO»Y.  205 

planation.  My  main  purpose  will  be  accomplished  if 
we  succeed  in  getting  a  clear  idea  of  the  problems  that 
a  complete  explanation  would  undertake  to  solve. 

In  thinking  about  retention,  we  must  be  on  our 
guard  against  being  led  into  mistakes  by  the  literal 
meaning  of  the  word.  The  act  of  retaining  seems  to 
imply  a  place  where  things  are  retained,  and  so  we 
sometimes  permit  ourselves  to  think  of  memory  as  a 
great  storehouse,  where  all  the  lumber  of  our  past  ex- 
perience is  accumulated.  But  when  we  begin  to  think 
seriously,  we  find  that  this  "storehouse"  is  a  mere 
metaphor ;  that  what  we  know  is  that  an  experience  of 
yesterday — say  the  perception  of  a  friend — recurs  to 
us  to-day  in  the  form  of  an  image.  If  you  ask  where 
the  image  was  from  the  time  it  dropped  out  of  con- 
sciousness until  the  time  we  thought  of  it  to-day,  the 
proper  answer  is,  as  Baldwin  says,  Nowhere.  When  I 
perceived  my  friend,  I  performed  a  mental  act.  When 
I  ceased  to  perceive  him,  the  act  ceased,  and  with  it 
the  product  of  the  act — the  percept.  When  the  image 
of  him  as  I  saw  him  yesterday  is  recalled  to  my  mind, 
I  remember  him.  Between  the  disappearance  of  the 
percept  and  the  rise  of  the  image  my  mind  was  inac- 
tive with  reference  to  him ;  there  was  neither  percept 
nor  image  of  him  in  existence.  ^The  word  retention, 


206  I.KSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

then,  does  not  denote  an  act,  but  states  a  fact — the 
fact  that  experience^  of  the  past  leave  the  mind  different, 
since  it  often  happens  that  we  can  recall  them.  The 
explanation  of  the  fact  is  very  difficult — perhaps,  in 
the  present  state  of  our  knowledge,  impossible.  We 
have  learned  from  Socrates  that  it  is  better  to  remain 
in  conscious  ignorance  than  to  delude  ourselves  with 
the  appearance  of  knowledge.  Let  us,  then,  content 
ourselves  for  the  time  with  the  fact,  without  any  at' 
tempt  to  account  for  it. 

The  laws  in  accordance  with  which  ideas  and 
images  of  our  past  experiences  arise  in  our  minds  have 
already  been  considered.  They  are,  as  we  know,  the 
laws  of  association.  We  say  that  any  thought,  idea, 
or  experience  tends  to  recall  similar  thoughts,  ideas, 
or  experiences,  and  all  other  thoughts  or  experiences 
that  were  in  the  mind  at  the  same  time. 

A  consideration  of  this  law  will  enable  us  to  see 
how  it  happens  that  we  are  sometimes  conscious  of  re- 
knowing  things  without  being  able  to  recall  the  place 
where,  or  the  time  when,  the  thing  was  originally 
known,  or  any  of  the  circumstances  connected  with  it. 
It  is  because  the  thing  recalls  the  past  experience 
simply  by  the  law  of  association  by  similarity.  Usu- 
ally, as  we  know,  along  with  the  similar  idea  are  re- 


I.E8SONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  207 

called  other  ideas  or  thoughts  that  were  in  the  mind 
at  the  same  time;  and  it  is  these  other  thoughts  or 
ideas  that  enable  us  to  localize  our  recollections.  You 
saw  a  stranger  yesterday  in  the  post-office.  To-day 
you  see  him  again,  and  as  soon  as  you  see  him  you  are 
conscious  of  that  feeling  of  re-cognition — you  know  that 
you  have  seen  him  before.  How  do  you  know  it?  Be- 
cause of  the  likeness  betweeen  your  percept  of  him  and 
the  image  that  arises  in  the  mind.  But  suppose  the 
image  comes  entirely  unattended — suppose  it  comes 
without  any  of  the  other  ideas  that  were  in  the  mind 
at  the  same  time — then  you  will  have  the  feeling  that 
you  are  re-knowing  the  person,  but  where  or  when  you 
originally  knew  him  you  will  be  utterlj'  unable  to  tell. 
You  will  not  know  where,  for  by  supposition  the  image 
of  the  post-office  does  not  come  into  your  mind  with 
the  image  of  the  person  you  saw  there.  You  will  not 
know  when,  for  none  of  the  images  or  thoughts  that 
fix  the  time  come  with  the  image — no  thought  of  yes- 
terday, no  thought  of  what  you  were  or  had  been 
doing.  As  we  can  not  locate  the  place  of  a  thing  ex- 
cept in  relation  to  other  places — lyondon  in  relation  to 
England,  England  to  Europe,  Europe  to  the  earth, 
the  earth  to  the  solar  system,  the  solar  system  to 
the  universe,  the  universe  to  what  ? — so  we  can  not 


208  I^SSSONS  IN   PSYCaOLOGY. 

locate  the  time  of  an  event  except  with  reference  to 
the  time  of  other  events,  succeeding,  preceding,  or 
contemporaneous.  (What  does  1891  mean?)  When, 
therefore,  an  image  of  a  past  experience  arises  in  our 
minds,  unattended  by  any  of  its  former  companions, 
we  can  only  feel  that  we  re-know  it,  without  being 
able  to  tell  where  or  when. 

This  explanation  of  the  fact  would  seem  to  make 
the  explanation  of  our  ordinary  experiences  in  mem- 
ory very  simple.  Usually  when  we  see  a  thing  a  sec- 
ond time  that  we  remember  to  have  seen  before  we 
remember  when  and  where  we  saw  it.  The  reason  is 
as  we  now  see,  that  the  image  of  the  past  fact  is 
attended  by  some  of  the  ideas  that  were  in  the  mind  at 
the  same  time,  so  that  its  place  and  time  are  fixed. 
Bu/  how  do  we  know  that  images  of  which  we  are  con- 
scious in  the  present  are  copies  of  experiences  that  we 
had  an  hour  ago,  or  rather  what  makes  us  believe  it  ? 
You  sit  down  and  begin  to  indulge  in  the  pleasure  of 
retrospection.  You  think  of  what  happened  an  hour 
ago,  yesterday,  last  year,  ten  years  ago — when  you 
were  a  child,  first  finding  yourself  in  this  strange 
world.  But  your  base  of  operations  is  always  the 
present.  How  is  it  that  ideas  now  171  the  mind  are 
retrojected,  some  of  them  an  hotir  back,  others  a   day, 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  209 

others  a  year,  others  a  decade,  others  for  a  period  7iot  to 
be  mentioned  in  such  a  public  place  ?  Precisely  as  in 
perception,  we  refer  some  of  the  sensations  of  color  to 
objects  ten  feet  away,  others  to  objects  a  mile— ten 
miles — away,  while  all  of  them  are  in  our  own  minds, 
so  in  memory  we  retroject  ideas,  all  of  which  are 
experiences  of  the  presetit,  some  of  them  an  hour, 
others  a  day,  others  a  week,  others  a  score  of  years 
into  our  past  lives.     How  are  we  able  to  do  it? 

It  is  the  case  of  the  Irishman's  brogue  over  again. 
As  we  know  the  nationality  of  an  Irishman  by  the 
way  he  speaks ;  as  we  refer  our  sensations  to  a  certain 
place  by  their  local  signs ;  so  we  locate  images  of  past 
experiences  at  a  certain  point  in  our  past  lives  by 
their  temporal  signs.  As  the  local  signs  are  certain 
characteristics  that  all  sensations,  however  diflferent, 
which  arise  from  the  stimulation  of  the  same  part  of 
the  body  have  in  common,  so  the  temporal  .signs  are 
.certain  common  characteristics  possessed  by  all  ideas 
that  we  refer  to  some  general  point  of  time,  however 
diflferent  those  ideas  may  be.  In  other  words,  all  the 
events  of  Christmas  Day,  1888,  that  I  am  able  to 
recall  and  localize  at  that  point  in  the  past  are 
represented  in  my  mind  by  ideas  or  images  that  have 
certain  common  characteristics.  These  common  char- 
14 


210  LESSONS   I»   PSYCHOLOGY. 

acteristics — this  brogue  that  enables  me  to  refer  my 
recollections  to  their  proper  time  in  the  past — are 
called  temporal  signs. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Define  retention,  reproduction,  recognition,  and  locali- 
zation, and  show  that  they  are  essential  to  a  complete  act  of 
memory. 

2.  Summarize  the  restilts  reached  in  the  chapter  on  the 
association  of  ideas. 

3.  How  is  it  that  we  sometimes  know  that  we  have  seen 
a  thing  without  being  able  to  tell  where  or  when  ? 

4.  What  was  the  illustration  of  the  Irishman's  brogue 
used  to  show  in  one  of  the  chapters  on  Perception  ? 

5.  What  is  the  difference  between  local  and  temporal 
signs  ? 

6.  How  is  it  that  the  mind  is  able  to  regard  its  local  signs 
as  signs  of  place  ? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  a  percept  and  an 
image  ? 

8.  Show  that  we  are  able  to  locate  a  thing  either  in  time 
or  place  only  by  its  relation  to  other  things. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Do  you  know  any  facts  that  indicate  that  retention  is 
made  possible  through  a  modification  of  the  brain  that  results 
from  each  of  the  experiences  of  the  mind? 

2.  If  that  is  the  explanation  of  retention,  how  would  you 
explain  reproduction  ? 

3.  On  the  .supposition  that  the  mind  has  temporal  signs, 
how  would  you  explain  its  power  to  interpret  them  as  signs 
of  time? 

4.  At  about  what  age  do  children  begin  to  understand 
the  meaning  of  yesterday,  last  7veek,  etc.? 

5.  Why  is  it  that  this  knowledge  comes  so  late? 

6.  Are  you  sure  that  such  a  thing  as  absolute  forgetful- 
ness  ever  takes  place  ? 


I,BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  211 

LESSON   XXI. 

THE   CULTIVATION    OF   THE    MEMORY. 

T  N  Studying  the  association  of  ideas,  we  saw  that 
-*-  mechanical  association  is  that  kind  of  association 
in  consequence  of  which  anything  we  are  thinking  of 
tends  to  make  us  think  of  something  else  we  thought 
of  at  or  about  the  same  time ;  logical  or  rational  as- 
sociation, that  which  tends  to  make  us  think  of  some- 
thing between  which  and  the  thing  we  are  thinking  of 
the  mind  has  perceived  mner  relations. 

We  only  need  to  call  to  mind  instances  of  the 
"former  to  realize  its  comparative  educational  value. 
Consider,  for  example,  the  following:  "Thou  didst 
swear  to  me,  upon  a  parcel-gilt  goblet,  sitting  in  my 
dolphin  chamber,  at  the  round  table,  by  a  sea-coal  fire, 
upon  Wednesday  in  Whitsun  week,  when  the  prince 
broke  thy  head  for  liking  his  father  to  a  singing  man 
of  Windsor;  thou  didst  swear  to  me  then,  as  I  \va<^ 
washing  thy  wound,  to  marry  me,  and  make  me  my 
lady  thy  wife." — Henry  IV.  This,  of  course,  is  an  ex- 
ample of  mechanical  association,  and  it  enables  us  to 
realize  that,  so  far  as  our  thoughts  are  controlled  by 


212  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  kind  of  association,  they  will  be  directed  by 
chance  and  accident  rather  than  intelligence. 

When  your  pupils  associate  things  logically,  they 
are  exercising  and  therefore  developing  the  higher 
powers  of  their  minds. 

lyOgical  or  rational  association  is  association  ac- 
cording to  some  inner  relation.  But  before  this  rela- 
tion can  form  the  basis  of  an  association  it  must  be 
apprehended,  and  this  act  of  apprehension  is  an 
exercise  of  the  higher  powers  of  the  mind.  Fitch 
says  that  the  difference  between  a  wise  man  and  one 
who  is  not  wise  consists  less  in  the  things  he  knows 
than  in  the  way  he  knows  them.  The  wise  man 
knows  things  in  their  relations,  I  think  he  would  say, 
has  his  knowledge  classified,  has  associated  what  he 
knows  rationally.  In  the  same  paragraph  he  observes 
that  an  historical  fact  is  learned  to  little  purpose 
unless  it  is  seen  in  its  bearing  on  some  political, 
economical,  or  moral  law.  I  am  sure  you  agree  with 
him.  We  all  know  that  a  teacher  may  know  facts 
enough  about  history  to  pass  an  ordinary  examination 
very  creditably,  and  yet  know  them  to  very  little  pur- 
pose because  he  knows  them  in  a  purely  mechanical 
way. 

Another  reason  for  helping  our  pupils  cultivate 


I.ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  213 

their  logical  memory  is  that  they  are  more  interested 
ill  what  they  have  associated  logically.  To  learn 
facts  by  means  of  the  mechanical  memory'  is  an  irk- 
some task  ;  to  apprehend  the  relations  between  those 
facts,  to  associate  them  logically  is  a  delightful  labor, 
especially  if  the  pupil  has  been  led  to  discern  for  him- 
self the  relations  which  form  the  basis  of  the  associa- 
tion. Now  interest,  as  we  know,  is  a  great  help  to 
the  memory.  But  apart  from  that  it  is  quite  as  im- 
portant for  you  to  interest  your  pupils  for  other 
reasons.  If  we  interest  our  pupils,  we  do  what  we  can 
to  make  them  students  for  life,  and  that  is  a  much 
more  important  matter  than  having  them  learn  well 
any  particular  subject.  Indeed,  I  think  you  will 
admit  that  if  we  had  to  choose  between  having  our 
pupils  careless  and  indifferent  to  study  at  school,  and 
having  them  studious  through  life,  it  would  be  en- 
tirely wise  for  us  to  choose  the  latter. 

Another  reason  for  cultivating  the  logical  memory 
is  that  any  one  with  that  kind  of  memory  can  use 
what  he  knows.  Some  one  has  said  that  a  man  could 
not  stand  under  a  tree  with  Edmund  Burke  during  a 
shower  of  rain  without  perceiving  that  he  was  in  the 
company  of  a  very  remarkable  man.  The  reason 
doubtless  was,  not  that  Btirke  was  continually  saying 


214  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

brilliant  or  witty  things,  but  that  he  said  nothing  that 
was  not  to  the  point.  A  man  may  know  a  great  deal 
mechanically,  and  yet  be  unable  to  use  his  knowledge, 
because  he  can  not  think  of  anything  when  he  wants 
it,  and  can  not  see  how  he  can  use  it  when  he  does 
think  of  it.  Such  a  person's  mind  is  like  a  well-filled 
scrap  bag ;  there  is  a  good  deal  in  it,  but  everything  is 
in  such  disorder  that  you  have  to  turn  it  upside  down 
before  you  can  get  any  particular  thing  out  of  it. 

You  have  doubtless  heard  the  saying,  "Great 
memory,  little  wit."  I  think  we  can  now  see  what 
truth  there  is  in  it.  It  is  altogether  possible  for  a 
person  to  have  a  great  mechanical  memory  and  have 
very  little  mind  besides.  Indeed,  there  are  plenty  of 
cases  on  record  in  which  idiots  have  shown  remark- 
able power  of  remembering  facts  mechanically.  But  to 
have  a  fine  logical  memory  and  a  poor  mind  is  an 
impossibility. 

Educated  persons  often  complain  that  their  mem- 
ory is  not  so  good  as  it  was  in  their  youth.  What 
they  mean  is  that  their  mechanical  memory  is  not  so 
good.  They  have  acquired  the  very  excellent  habit 
of  fixing  their  attention  on  important  matters  and 
neglecting  the  trivial  events  that  are  not  worth  re- 
membering; and  because  they  forget  them,  while  their 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  2I5 

uneducated  friends  remember  them,  they  imagine 
that  their  memory  suffers  by  comparison.  But  it  is 
not  so.  The  educated  man  cultivates  his  logical 
memory,  and  neglects,  for  the  most  part,  his  mechani- 
cal memory;  while  the  uneducated  man  does  the  exact 
opposite.  It  is  natural,  therefore,  for  the  uneducated 
to  have  better  mechanical  memories  than  the  educated. 
As  Dr.  Harris  observes,  if  we  want  the  child's  memory 
we  can  have  it.  We  can  force  ourselves  to  ignore  the 
difference  between  the  important  and  the  unimportant, 
and  attend  impartially  to  everything  that  comes 
before  us.  So  far  as  we  succeed  in  doing  this,  we 
shall  remember  important  and  unimportant  matters 
with  equal  accuracy.  But  is  such  a  memory  desirable  ? 
No,  because  in  that  case  we  shall  remember  important 
matters  less  accurately  than  we  should  have  done 
otherwise. 

But  I  do  not  mean  to  convey  the  impression  that 
everything  can  be  learned  by  means  of  the  logical 
memory.  Logical  association  consists  in  connecting 
facts  together  by  means  of  some  inner  relation.  But 
before  we  can  see  the  relations  between  facts,  we 
must  know  the  facts  themselves. 

For  this  reason  there  is  a  place  for  the  mechanical 
memory  in  education.     But  here  you  should  note  that 


2l6  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

there  are  as  many  different  memories,  so  to  speak,  as 
there  are  kinds  of  facts  to  be  remembered  There  is  a 
memory  of  colors,  a  memory  of  dates,  a  memory  of 
rocks,  and  so  on.  You  know  very  well  that  some  of 
your  pupils  have  an  excellent  memory  for  geography, 
others  for  grammar,  others  for  history,  and  so  on. 

Now,  since  memory  is  not  one  faculty,  but  many, 
it  follows  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  universal 
cultivation  of  the  memory.  If  you  find  your  memory 
weak  in  any  particular  direction,  what  you  ought  to 
do  is  to  practice  it  on  the  kind  of  things  you  find  most 
difficultly  in  remembering.  Dr.  Harris  gives  an  in- 
teresting and  instructive  account  of  his  own  efforts  in 
cultivating  his  mechanical  memory.  When  he  was 
about  eighteen,  he  tells  us,  he  had  great  difficulty  in 
remembering  dates.  He  cultivated  his  memory  for 
them  in  the  following  manner:  The  first  day  he 
learned  the  dates  of  accession  of  three  or  four  English 
kings;  the  next  day  he  learned  two  or  three  more,  and 
reviewed  those  he  learned  the  preceding  day;  the 
next  day,  again  reviewing  from  the  beginning,  he 
added  two  or  three  more  to  the  list,  and  so  on,  until 
he  had  thoroughly  learned  the  entire  list.  After  two 
or  three  months  he  found  he  had  forgotten  some  of 
then:,  so  he  learned  them  again;  and  after  two  or  three 


IvE€SONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  217 

year.=  he  repeated  the  operation.  By  such  training, 
he  tells  us,  his  memory  for  dates  was  so  improved 
that  he  has  never  since  had  any  trouble  in  remember- 
ing such  dates  as  he  cared  to  remember.  He  culti- 
vated his  memory  for  names  in  a  similar  way. 

It  follows  that  verbal  memorizing,  although  me- 
chanical memorizing,  is  not  necessarily  bad.  Fitcli 
has  stated  with  great  clearness  the  circumstances  under 
which  it  is  valuable:  "When  the  object  is  to  have 
thoughts,  facts,  reasonings  reproduced,  seek  to  have 
them  reproduced  in  the  pupil's  own  words.  Do  not 
set  the  faculty  of  mere  verbal  memory  to  work.  But 
when  the  words  themselves  in  which  a  fact  is  em- 
bodied have  some  special  fitness  or  beauty  of  their 
own — when  they  represent  some  scientific  datum  or 
central  truth,  which  could  not  otherwise  be  so  well 
expressed — then  see  that  the  form  as  well  as  the 
substance  of  the  expression  is  learned  by  heart." 
Compayre,  commenting  on  this,  says  that,  "according 
to  this,  it  is  easy  to  fix  the  limit  which  verbal  repetition 
should  not  pass.  In  grammar,  the  principal  rules; 
in  arithmetic,  the  definitions ;  in  geometry,  the  theo- 
rems ;  in  the  sciences  in  general,  the  formulas ;  in  his- 
tory, a  few  summaries ;  in  geography,  the  explanation 
of  a  few  technical  terms ;  in  ethics,  a  few  maxims — 


2l8  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

these  are  the  things  which  the  child  ought  to  know 
word  for  word — on  the  condition,  of  course,  that  he 
perfectly  understands  the  meaning  of  what  he  recites, 
and  that  his  attention  is  called  not  less  to  the  thought 
than  to  the  form  of  the  expression."  To  this  I  would 
add  that  no  week  should  be  allowed  to  pass  by  in 
which  the  pupil  is  not  encouraged  to  learn,  word  for 
word,  some  beautiful  sentence  or  paragraph,  and  thus 
store  his  mind  with  beautiful  thoughts,  beautifully  ex- 
pressed, by  reflection  upon  which  he  may  cultivate  his 
taste  for  beautiful  literature. 

And  now  I  have  said  substantially  what  I  intended 
about  mechanical  and  rational  association,  and  me- 
chanical and  rational  memory.  I  believe  we  shall 
agree  that,  of  all  the  subjects  within  the  whole  range 
of  Psychology,  there  is  scarcely  one  of  more  practical 
importance.  We  are  constantly  making  use  of  the 
memory  of  our  pupils.  Hotv  we  make  use  of  it  is  the 
question,  the  answer  to  which  largely  determines  the 
quality  of  our  work.  But  however  clearly  we  under- 
stand the  difference  between  logical  and  mechanical 
memory,  and  the  circumstances  under  which  each 
ought  to  be  cultivated,  I  am  afraid  we  shall  have  dif- 
ficulty in  putting  our  ideas  into  practice.  Why?  Be- 
cause we  can  not  help  our  pupils  associate  facts  logically 


LBSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  219 

until  they  are  so  associated  in  our  own  minds.  Pesta- 
lozzi  thought  that  it  was  possible  to  mechanize  instruc- 
tion so  perfectly  that  any  teacher  who  had  mastered 
the  mechanism  could  succeed.  He  was  profoundly 
mistaken,  not  merely  because  a  mechanism  won't  ruu 
itself — because  a  method,  however  excellent,  needs 
various  adaptations  to  various  cases — but  because  good 
teaching  is  impossible  without  an  ample  and  rational 
knowledge  of  the  subject  of  instruction. 

As  long  as  the  addition,  subtraction,  multiplica- 
tion, and  division  of  whole  numbers  seem  to  be  en- 
tirely disconnected  operations,  and  each  of  these  en- 
tirely disconnected  from  the  addition,  subtraction, 
multiplication,  and  division  of  common  fractions,  and 
these  from  the  same  operations  in  decimal  fractions, 
we  can  not  enable  our  pupils  to  associate  the  facts  of 
arithmetic  rationally,  because  they  are  not  so  associated 
in  our  own  mind.  In  like  manner,  as  long  as  we  see 
no  connection  between  the  very  different  kinds  of 
people  who  settled  at  Plymouth  and  Jamestown,  and 
the  diflfereuces  between  the  people  of  Massachusetts 
and  the  people  of  Virginia  at  the  close  of  the  Revo- 
lutionary War ;  as  long  as  we  see  no  connection  be- 
tween these  differences  and  their  reluctance  to  unite 
together  under  a  single  strong  government ;  as  long  as 


220  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

we  do  not  see  how  this  reluctance  could  only  be  over- 
come by  compromises  in  the  Constitution  which  were 
in  the  nature  of  contradictions,  which  contradictions, 
under  the  influence  of  slavery,  led  to  other  contradic- 
tions— each  party  affirming  its  own  view  with  pas- 
sionate intensity — and  these  to  the  Civil  War — until 
we  see  these  things  as  clearly  as  the  sun  in  the  noon- 
day heavens,  American  history  is  a  sealed  book  to  us, 
and  it  will  be  a  sealed  book  to  our  pupils  so  far  as 
help  from  us  is  concerned,  because  the  facts  are  as- 
sociated in  our  own  minds  in  a  merely  mechanical 
way.  In  like  manner,  until  we  realize  in  detail  to 
what  extent  the  character  and  history  and  institutions 
of  a  people  are  a  matter  of  latitude,  and  longitude, 
and  soil,  and  climate ;  until  we  see  that  the  explana- 
tion of  the  building  of  a  Chicago  in  fifty  years  is  to  be 
found  in  the  facts  of  physical  geography  ;  until  we  see 
that,  if  the  soil  and  climate  and  other  physical  con- 
ditions of  the  North  and  the  South  had  been  reversed, 
the  parts  they  played  in  the  Civil  War  would  have 
been  reversed — we  can  not  teach  geography  properly, 
because  we  do  not  know  geography  in  a  rational  or 
logical  way. 

In  a  word,  to  make  a  practical  use  of  this  distinc- 
tion   between    logical    and    mechanical  memory,   we 


IvESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  221 

must  see  it  in  the  first  place;  and,  in  the  second,  we 
must  know  the  subjects  we  undertake  to  teach  in  a 
logical  or  rational  way,  and  the  latter  is  just  as  indis- 
pensable as  the  former. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  lessons  on 
the  associations  of  ideas  and  memory. 

2.  Analyze  the  quotation  from  Henry  IV.  in  order  to 
show  that  it  was  the  result  of  mechanical  association. 

3.  State  the  various  reasons  for  cultivating  the  logical 
memory. 

4.  What  does  Fitch  say  is  the  difference  between  a  wise 
man  and  one  who  is  not  wise  ? 

5.  How  many  memories  has  the  mind  ? 

6.  How  did  Dr.  Harris  cultivate  his  memory  for  dates  ? 

7.  Under  what  circumstances  is  verbal  memonzing 
desirable  ? 

8.  What  did  Pestalozzi  think  about  mechanizing  instruc- 
tion, and  why  was  he  mistaken  .'' 

9.  Illustrate  the  necessity  of  a  rational  knowledge  of  a 
subject  in  order  to  teach  it  well. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  light  does  this  lesson  throw  on  the  kind  of  pre- 
paration a  teacher  should  make  ? 

2.  Make  a  study  of  the  children  you  meet  to  ascertain 
(i)  the  things  they  remember  and  why,  and  (2)  the  kind  of 
memory  they  exercise  most. 

3.  Which  kind  of  memory  should  be  chiefly  exercised  in 
the  case  of  young  pupils,  and  why? 

4.  "  Betty,"  said  a  farmer's  wife  to  her  servant,  "  You 
must  go  to  town  for  some  things.    You  have  such  a  bad 


L-...'-.  .. 


222  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

memory  that  you  always  forget  something,  but  see  if  you  can 
remember  them  all  <^his  time."  "  I'm  very  sorry,  ma'am,"  says 
Betty,  "  that  I've  such  a  bad  memory,  but  it's  not  my  fault ;  I 
•wish  I  had  a  better  one."  "Now  mind,"  said  her  mistress, 
"  listen  carefully  to  what  I  tell  you.  I  want  suet  and  currants 
for  the  pudding."  "  Yes,  ma'am,  suet  and  currants."  "  Then 
I  want  leeks  and  barley  for  the  broth ;  don't  forget  them." 
"No,  ma'am,  leeks  and  barley;  I  shan't  forget."  "Then  I 
want  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  a  pound  of  tea,  a  pound  of  coflfee, 
and  six  pounds  of  sugar.  And  as  you  go  by  the  dressmaker's, 
tell  her  she  must  bring  out  calico  for  the  lining,  some  black 
thread,  and  a  piece  of  narrow  tape."  "  Yes,  ma'am,  says  Betty, 
preparing  to  depart."  "Oh,  at  the  grocer's  get  a  jar  of  black 
currant  jam,"  fidds  the  mistress.  The  farmer,  who  has  been 
quietlylistening  to  this  conversation,  calls  Betty  back  when  she 
has  started,  and  asks  her  what  she  is  going  to  do  in  the  town. 
"  "Well,  sir,  I'm  going  to  get  tea,  sugar,  a  shoulder  of  mutton, 
coffee,  coffee— let  me  see,  there's  something  else."  "  That  won't 
do,"  said  the  farmer ;  "  you  must  arrange  the  things  as  the  par- 
son does  his  sermon,  under  different  heads,  or  you  won't  re- 
member them.  Now,  you  have  three  things  to  think  of — break- 
fast, dinner,  and  dressmaker."  "  Yes,  sir."  "  What  are  you  going 
to  get  for  breakfast.?  "  "  Tea  and  coffee  and  sugar  and  jam," 
says  Betty.  "Where  do  you  get  these  things?"  "At  the 
grocer's."  "  Very  well.  Now  what  will  be  the  things  put  on 
the  table  at  dinner  ?  "  "  There'll  be  broth,  meat,  and  pudding." 
"  Now  what  have  you  to  get  for  each  of  these  ?  "  "  For  the 
broth  I  have  to  get  leeks  and  barley,  for  the  meat  I  have  to 
get  a  shoulder  of  mutton,  and  for  the  pudding  I  must  get 
suet  and  currants."  "  Very  good.  Where  will  you  get  these 
things?"  "  I  must  get  the  leeks  at  the  gardener's,  the  mutton 
and  suet  at  the  butcher's,  and  the  barley  and  currants  at  the 
grocer's."  "But  you  had  something  else  to  get  at  the 
grocer's."  "  Yes,  sir,  the  things  for  breakfast — tea,  coffee, 
iugar,  and  jam."    "  Very  well.    Then  at  the  grocer's  you  have 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  223 

four  things  to  get  for  breakfast  aud  two  for  dinner.  When 
you  go  to  the  grocer's,  think  of  one  part  of  his  counter  as 
your  breakfast  table  aud  another  part  as  your  dinner  table, 
and  go  o\er  the  things  -n-anted  for  breakfast  and  the  things 
wanted  for  dinner.  Then  you  will  remember  the  four  things 
for  breakfast  and  the  two  for  dinner.  Then  you  will  have 
two  other  places  to  go  for  the  dinner.  What  are  they?"  "The 
gardener's  for  leeks,  and  the  butcher's  for  meat  and  suet." 
"  Very  well.  That  is  three  of  the  places.  What  is  the  fourth?  " 
"  The  dressmaker's  to  tell  her  to  bring  out  calico,  and  thread, 
and  tape  for  the  dress."  "Now,"  said  her  master,  "I  think 
you  can  tell  me  everything  you  are  going  for."  "Yes,"  said 
Betty;  "I'm  going  to  the  grocer's,  the  butcher's,  and  the 
gardener's.  At  the  grocer's  I'm  going  to  get  tea,  coffee,  sugar, 
and  jam  for  breakfast,  and  barley  and  currants  for  dinner. 
But  then  I  shall  not  have  all  the  things  for  dinner,  so  I  must 
go  to  the  butcher's  for  a  shoulder  of  mutton  and  suet,  and  for 
leeks  to  the  gardener's.  Then  I  must  call  at  the  dressmaker's 
to  tell  her  to  bring  lining,  tape,  and  thread  for  the  dress."  Off 
goes  Betty  and  does  everything  she  has  to  do.  "  Never  tell 
us  again,"  said  her  master,  "  that  you  can't  help  having  a  bad 
memory." — Tate's  Philosophy  0/  Education.  What  does  this 
illustrate  ? 


284  LKftfONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON   XXIT. 


IMAGINATION. 


IF  you  ever  watched  the  growth  of  the  mind  of  a 
child,  you  doubtless  noticed  that  he  seemed  to  re- 
member persons  before  he  showed  any  signs  of  think- 
ing of  them  when  they  are  absent.  A  child  shows  in 
the  most  unmistakable  ways  that  he  remembers  his 
father  and  mother  some  time  before  he  gives  any  evi- 
dence of  thinking  of  them  when  they  are  away.  The 
power  of  the  mhid  to  form  ideas  of  things  not  present  is 
called  imagination. 

We  may  call  imagination  the  image-making  faculty, 
if  we  give  a  broad  enough  meaning  to  image.  We  can 
think  not  only  of  absent  persons,  but  of  tastes,  touches, 
hopes,  fears,  etc.,  no  longer  experienced.  If,  then,  we 
define  imagination  as  the  image-making  faculty,  we 
must  remember  that  an  image  is  the  mental  representa- 
tio7i  of  any  experience  zvhatever. 

There  are  two  kinds  of  imagination.  When  a  child 
cries  for  his  absent  mamma,  the  act  of  imagination  evi- 
dently consists  in  holding  before  the  mind  a  copy, 
more  or  less  faithful,    of  the    mother,  as  seen  and 


1.KSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  225 

known.  But  the  same  child  will  soon  think  of  things 
he  has  never  seen — of  things  that  have  never  come 
within  the  range  of  his  experience.  He  will  tell  you 
of  what  he  will  do  when  he  becomes  a  bird,  or  of  good 
little  girls  putting  a  cat's  eyes  in  after  a  bad  dog  has 
scratched  them  out — and  much  besides  of  the  same 
sort.  The  first  kind  of  imagination  is  called  reniinis- 
ce7it  or  reproductive,  since  it  reproduces  past  ex- 
periences ;  the  second  is  called  constructive,  since  it 
takes  ideas  or  images  furnished  by  the  reproductive 
imagination  and  combines  them  into  new  wholes. 

"But  what  is  the  difference,"  you  at  once  ask,  "be- 
tween reproductive  imagination  and  memory?  I  hear 
a  song,  and  it  makes  me  think  of  the  friend  whom  I 
heard  sing  it  a  few  days  ago — an  image  of  my  friend 
as  singing  the  song  rises  before  my  mind.  This.  I  sup- 
pose, is  both  an  act  of  memory  and  reproductive 
imagination;  what  is  the  difference  between  the  two?" 

To  begin  with,  in  its  early  stages,  memory  exists 
without  imagination.  A  child  who  knows  his  mamma 
when  he  sees  her,  but  can  not  think  of  her  when  she 
is  absent,  illustrates  this. 

"But  when  he  begins  to  think  of  his  absent  mam- 
ma, as  he  will  by  and  by,  what,  then,  is  the  difference 
between  memory  and  reproductive  imagination?  When 
»5 


826  LESSONS  lit  PSYCHOLOGY. 

he  thinks  about  her,  does  he  not  remember  her,  and  is 
not  his  thought  of  her  an  image,  and  therefore  the 
product  of  the  imagination?"  Yes ;  but  there  is  a  dif- 
ference between  simply  thinking  of  her,  or  rather  be- 
tween simply  having  the  image  of  her  in  his  mind,  and 
knowing  that  image  as  the  image  of  one  he  has  seen. 
The  difference  between  reproductive  imagination  and 
constructive  imagination  is  that  the  images  resulting 
from  reproductive  imagination  are  copies  of  past  ex- 
periences, while  those  resulting  from  constructive 
imagination  are  not.  Now,  it  is  altogether  possible  for 
one  to  suppose  that  what  are  really  products  of  repro- 
ductive imagination  are  products  of  constructive 
imagination,  because  the  images  resulting  from  the  act 
of  reproductive  imagination  are  not  accompanied  by  a 
recollection  of  the  original  experiences. 

"We  shall  see  the  relation  between  them  from  an- 
other point  of  view  if  we  remember  that  the  exercise 
of  the  reproductive  imagination  is  a  part,  of  which  the 
memory  of  an  absent  object  is  the  whole.  There  can 
be  no  memory  of  an  absent  object  unless  the  image  of 
it  is  in  the  mind,  and  that  image  is  the  product  of  the 
reproduccive  imagination.  But  having  the  image  of 
an  absent  object,  and  remembering  the  object,  are  not 
the  same.    There  is  no  complete  act  of  memory  of  an  ab- 


LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  227 

sent  object  tmtil  the  image  in  the  mind  is  recognized  as 
the  hnage  of  some  particular  object  or  thing  already  ex- 
perienced.  Moreover,  while  a  complete  act  of  memory 
of  an  absent  object  involves  retention,  reproduction, 
recognition,  and  localization,  the  imagination  of  it  in- 
volves but  two — retention  and  reproduction.  If  the 
image  of  a  past  object  or  experience  comes  unattended 
by  any  of  the  images  that  formed  a  part  of  its  original 
escort,  it  can  not  be  localized — i.  e.,  completely  re- 
membered— nevertheless  it  is  imagined.  Also,  it  may 
not  be  recognized ;  even  then  it  is  imagined. 

There  is  not  a  moment  when  images  of  one  sort  or 
another  are  not  in  our  minds.  Sometimes  we  our- 
.selves  determine  to  a  considerable  extent  their  char- 
acter. As  Dr.  Reid  said,  "We  seem  to  treat  the 
thoughts  that  present  themselves  to  the  fancy" — 
imagination — "in  crowds  as  a  great  man  treats  the 
courtiers  who  attend  at  his  levee.  They  are  all  am- 
bitious of  his  attention.  He  goes  round  the  circle, 
bestowing  a  bow  upon  one,  a  smile  upon  another,  asks 
a  short  question  of  a  third,  while  a  fourth  is  honored 
with  a  particular  conference;  and  the  greater  part 
have  no  particular  mark  of  attention,  but  go  as  they 
came.  It  is  true  he  can  give  no  mark  of  his  attention 
to  those  who  were  not  there,  but  he  has  a  sufficient 


33%  I.VS60N8   IN   PSYCH0L09Y. 

number  for  making  a  choice  and  a  distinction."  If 
those  who  were  tieated  so  coolly  had  at  once  left, 
while  those  upon  whom  the  great  man  smiled  had 
stayed  till  some  of  their  friends  and  relatives — whom 
they  themselves  summoned  because  of  their  kind  treat- 
ment— were  honored  at  their  expense,  the  case  would 
exactly  illustrate  the  iufluencethat  we  exert,  whenever 
we  choose  to,  over  the  character  of  the  images  that 
throng  through  our  minds.  Those  that  we  do  not  at- 
tend to,  vanish ;  those  that  we  do  attend  to,  stay  until 
we  neglect  them  for  the  sake  of  those  that  come  into 
our  minds  through  their  connection  with  them. 

But  sometimes  the  will  abdicates,  and  lets  one's 
thoughts  take  their  own  course.  As  the  rider  of  a 
trusty  horse  might  throw  the  reins  on  his  neck,  and 
let  him  wander  at  will  across  fields,  through  woods, 
over  meadows,  so  we  sometimes  give  full  rein  to  our 
thoughts,  and  let  them  take  us  where  they  will.  If 
we  break  in  upon  any  such  state  for  the  purpose  of 
making  a  study  of  it,  I  think  that  we  shall  usually 
find  that  the  images  in  our  minds  are  the  products  of 
constructive  imagination — sometimes  very  grotesque 
ones. 

To  learn  whether  any  particular  image,  or  com- 
bination of  images,  is  the  product  of  reproductive  or 


I.RS60NS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  229 

constructive  imagination,  all  we  have  to  do  is  to  learn 
whether  or  not  it  is  a  copy  of  a  past  experience.  Our 
memories,  of  course,  are  defective,  and  we  may  be  un- 
certain on  that  account ;  but,  apart  from  that,  we  need 
be  in  no  doubt  whatever. 

Applying  this  test,  it  is  evident  that  when  we  learn 
anything  from  a  book  or  from  a  friend  we  are  exer- 
cising the  constructive  imagination.  Reading  is  some- 
times defined  as  thinking  along  prescribed  lines ;  and 
if  we  carefully  examine  our  own  minds,  we  shall  see 
tliat  all  thinking  is  done,  for  the  most  part,  through 
images,  either  of  things  or  words.  When,  then,  we 
read,  we  form  and  combine  images  in  a  certain  pre- 
scribed way — in  the  way  prescribed  by  the  language 
of  the  author — provided  we  understand  him.  When 
we  listen  to  the  conversation  of  a  friend,  we  evidently 
do  the  same  thing.  Unless,  therefore,  our  friend  or 
book  says  precisely  what  we  ourselves  have  thought, 
and  in  precisely  the  same  way,  it  is  evident  that  we 
grasp  the  thoughts  by  means  of  the  constructive 
imagination. 

When  we  find  out  a  thing  for  ourselves,  by  the 
exercise  of  our  own  powers — the  only  other  way  in 
which  we  can  learn  anything — I  think  we  shall  see 
that  is  done  through  constructive  imagination.     A  boy 


23©  IvBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

has  a  problem  in  aritlinietic  to  solve.  What  is  the 
first  thing  for  him  to  do?  Understand  it,  as  we  .say; 
and  this,  we  have  just  seen,  he  can  only  do  through 
constructive  imagination.  When  he  clearly  grasps 
the  conditions  stated  in  the  problem,  he  asks  what 
follows  from  them  ?  He  reasons  that  such  and  such  a 
result  would  follow — which  result  is  likewise  imaged 
constructively,  and  so  on  to  the  end.  Kepler  wanted 
to  know  the  shape  of  the  path  which  the  planets  make 
in  their  journeys  round  the  sun.  He  made  guess  after 
guess,  each  time  comparing  his  guess  with  the  facts, 
until  finally  he  was  successful.  This  again  was 
accomplished  through  the  constructive  imagination, 
was  it  not  ?  Only  by  means  of  the  constructive  imag- 
ination could  he  form  any  sort  of  an  idea  of  any 
particular  planet,  and  each  guess  was  an  imaging  of 
this  planet  pursuing  a  course  that  he  had  never  seen 
it  take.  A  child  of  one  or  two  or  three  years,  listens 
daily  to  conversations  between  his  mamma  and  papa. 
Sometimes  consciously — always  consciously  or  un- 
consciously— he  is  trying  to  understand  them.  How 
does  he  .succeed  in  learning  the  meaning  of  so  many 
words?  Precisely,  for  the  most  part,  as  Kepler  dis- 
covered the  shape  of  the  planetary  orbits — by  success- 
ful guessing.      By  the  time  he  is  three  he  knows  how 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  23I 

to  use  words  that  apply  to  purely  mental  processes — 
such  as  know,  think,  believe,  understa7id.  He  thinks 
of — forms  an  image  of — certain  mental  facts  which 
he  remembers  in  connection  with  certain  words — 
brings  images  into  a  relation  in  which  he  has  never 
experienced  them,  until  he  gets  the  right  pair  to- 
gether— until  he  makes  a  successful  guess.  Some- 
times we  can  catch  him  in  the  very  act  of  construc- 
tively ascertaining  the  meaning  of  a  word.  When  a 
child  of  two  speaks  of  the  "skin  of  a  book  "  through 
an  act  of  inductive  reasoning,  he  has  concluded  that 
the  outside  of  everything  is  its  skin — and  this  conclu- 
sion, to  be  a  conclusion  at  all,  must  be  imaged  in  part 
in  his  mind. 

Evidently,  therefore,  the  constructive  imagination 
is  not  monopolized  by  poets  and  painters  and  novelists. 
"Whoever  reads,  whoever  listens  to  a  conversation 
intelligently,  whoever  thinks — imagines,  and  imagines 
constructively.  "  There  are  indeed  as  many  different 
kinds  " — or  rather  cases — "of  imagination  as  there  are 
kinds  of  intellectual  activity." 


232  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Define  imagination,  image,  percept. 

2.  What  does  a  complete  act  of  memory  involve  ? 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  diflference  between  imagina- 
tion and  memory. 

4.  State  and  explain  the  quotation  from  Dr.  Reid. 

5.  What  is  active  imagination .''    Passive  ? 

6.  What  is  the  difference  between  reproductive  and  con- 
structive imagination  ? 

7.  IIow  do  we  read  a  book  intelligently,  or  understand  a 
conversation  ? 

8.  How  does  a  child  come  to  learn  the  meaning  of  words  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  makes  possible  the  difference  between  the  active 
and  passive  imagination  ? 

2.  Give  examples  of  cases  in  which  children  used  words 
incorrectly  when  they  reasoned  in  the  same  way  as  they  did 
when  they  used  other  words  correctly. 

3.  Compare  the  imagination  of  children  with  that  of 
older  people,  and  explain  the  difference. 


t^StONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  JJJ 


LESSON  XXIII. 

IMAGINATION. 

IN  the  last  lesson  we  saw  that  the  imagination  ol 
popular  thought  differs  widely  from  the  imagina- 
tion of  which  Psychology  treats.  When  people  in 
ordinary  conversation  speak  of  imagination,  they  mean 
a  kind  of  constructive  imagination — the  kind  that 
poets  and  painters  and  novelists  and  musicians  possess 
in  an  unusually  liigh  degree — the  power  of  combining 
ideas  or  images  furnished  by  reproductive  imagination 
into  new  wholes,  without  having  received  suggestions 
as  to  the  combinations  from  any  one  else.  But  it  is 
now  plain  that  we,  who  understand  the  poems  and 
paintings  and  novels  that  are  the  product  of  the  con- 
structive imagination,  exercise  constructive  imagi- 
nation. It  does,  indeed,  require  a  higher  power  of 
it  to  combine  images  and  groups  of  images  originally 
than  to  do  so  under  guidance — so  much  higher  that 
some  writers  would  give  it  another  name  and  call  it 
the  creative  imagination.  But  if  we  adopt  their  name 
we  need  to  remember  that  the  creative  imagination  of 
a  Shakspere,  a  Beethoven,  a  Thackeray,  a  Raphael, 


234  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOI.OGY. 

does  not  diflfer  in  kind  from  that  of  the  child  who 
imagines  himself  becoming  a  bird. 

This  enables  us  to  see  why  great  works  of  art — 
works  which  are  the  product  of  a  high  power  of  con- 
structive imagination — often  wait  a  long  time  to  get 
their  proper  appreciation.  Talk  to  a  child  about  the 
pleasure  of  study,  and  he  will  not  understand  you. 
His  experience  has  not  furnished  him  with  the  ma- 
terial for  comprehending  what  you  say.  His  idea  of 
happiness  is  the  possession  of  cake  and  candy  in 
abundance,  and  toys  without  stint.  A  little  girl,  who 
wished  to  show  her  affection  for  her  mamma,  urged 
her  papa  to  get  "a  wheelbarrow  and  a  dollie"  for  her 
mamma  when  he  went  to  town;  and  when  he  came 
back  without  them  she  was  deeply  grieved.  She 
built  her  notion  of  happiness  out  of  the  materials  fur- 
nished by  her  own  experience,  and  had  no  idea  that  it 
was  not  valid  for  every  one.  Some  great  writers  seem 
to  be  so  superior  to  even  their  most  highly  cultivated 
contemporaries  in  their  power  of  constructive  imagina- 
tion that  the  latter  can  not  think  the  thoughts  of  the 
former  even  under  their  direction.  Beethoven's  Grand 
Symphony  was  unintelligible  to  his  musical  contem- 
poraries, and  Newton's  Principia  was  beyond  the  com- 
prehension of  the  best   mathematicians  of  his  time. 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  235 

The  intuitions  of  Beethoven  and  Newton,  their  per- 
ception of  musical  and  mathematical  truth,  were  so 
much  more  vivid  and  profound  than  those  of  their 
contemporaries  that  the  products  of  their  constructive 
imagination  were  unintelligible. 

Constructive  imagination  is  also  very  closely  re- 
lated to  the  feelings.  We  have  already'  noticed  two 
quite  sharply  contrasted  cases  in  which  constructive 
imagination  works — the  case  in  which  its  products  are 
controlled  by  the  will,  and  that  in  which  the  will  exer- 
cises no  control  whatever  over  the  play  of  images. 
The  products  of  passive  imagination — as  we  may  call 
the  latter — plainly  depend  upon  the  feeUngs.  Tell  me 
the  character  of  the  images  that  habitually  pass 
through  your  mind,  and  I  will  tell  you  what  you  like. 
As  you  can  tell  the  tastes  of  a  gourmand  by  noticing 
what  he  eats,  so  you  can  determine  a  man's  likes  and 
dislikes  by  knowing  the  images  upon  which  he  habit- 
ually dwells.  This  explains  the  very  great  influence 
of  the  feelings  on  belief.  Only  so  far  as  the  facts  of 
the  world  and  of  life  get  imaged  in  our  minds  do  they 
influence  belief ;  and  those  that  we  image  are,  for  the 
most  part,  those  that  it  gives  us  pleasure  to  think  of — 
those  that  it  gratifies  some  part  of  our  emotional  na- 
ture to  think  of. 


236  I.»8SONS  IN    PSYCHOI^OOY. 

It  follows  that  the  exercise  of  the  imagination  may 
be  attended  with  very  grave  intellectual  results.  The 
desire  to  imagine  pleasant  things  may  be  stronger  than 
the  desire  to  imagine  things  that  are  true.  All  men 
of  strong  prejudices  are  examples  of  this.  They  are 
so  anxious  to  believe  a  particular  thing — find  so  much 
pleasure  in  picturing  it  in  their  imagination  and  think- 
ing of  it  as  real — that  they  will  not  fairly  consider  the 
arguments  that  make  against  their  favorite  theory. 
That  is  the  reason  why  strong  partisans  only  read  the 
newspapers  of  their  own  party.  They  do  not  want  to 
read  both  sides  of  the  question.  They  only  want  to 
see  their  own  side  strongly  supported,  that  they  may 
have  the  pleasure  of  dwelling  upon  arguments  that 
support  the  conclusion  they  have  made  up  their  minds 
to  believe. 

But  the  constructive  imagination  is  often  exercised 
for  the  sake  of  the  feelings.  When  you  build  air 
castles,  what  are  you  doing?  Exercising  the  con- 
structive imagination — bringing  before  your  mind 
images  of  what  you  would  like  to  be  real.  Why  do 
you  do  it?  Because  it  pleases  you.  That  is  the  reason 
why  most  people  are  so  fond  of  reading  novels.  The 
events  which  the  novelist  enables  them  to  picture 
please  them  more  than  the  prosaic  realities  of  every- 


LK8S0N«    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  237 

day  life.  Sully  has  a  para£,:-ph  on  this  subject  that  is 
worthy  of  careful  attention.  "The  indulgence  in  these 
pleasures  of  the  imagination,"  he  says,  "is  legitimate 
within  certain  bounds.  But  it  is  attended  with  dangers. 
A  youth  whose  mind  dwells  long  on  the  wonders  of 
romance  may  grow  discontented  with  his  actual  sur- 
roundings, and  so  morally  unfit  for  the  work  and  duties 
of  life.  Or — what  comes  to  much  the  same — he  learns 
to  satisfy  himself  with  these  imaginative  indulgences, 
and  so,  by  the  habitual  severance  of  feeling  from 
will,  gradually  becomes  incapable  of  deciding  and  act- 
ing— a  result  illustrated  by  the  history  of  Coleridge 
and  other  dreamers."  I  read  a  story  of  a  Russian  lady 
which  illustrates  this.  She  went  to  the  theater,  and 
wept  freely  over  the  imaginary  sufferings  of  the  hero 
of  the  tragedy ;  while  the  knowledge  that  her  coach- 
man was  shivering  in  the  cold  on  the  outside  waiting 
for  her  did  not  cause  the  faintest  suggestion  of  pity. 
Of  course,  if  we  read  novels  not  merely  for  pleasure, 
but  for  their  interpretations  of  life — for  the  light  they 
throw  upon  our  relations  to  our  fellows — such  a  "sev- 
erance of  feeling  from  will"  can  not  follow.  It  is  for 
teachers  and  parents  to  see  to  it  that  novel-reading 
serves  its  proper  educational  purpose — the  purpose  of 
broadening  and  strengthening  the  imagination,  and 


238  LBSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

preparing  the  will  for  its  proper  work  by  giving  the 
feelings  that  are  excited  by  it  an  active  direction. 

It  follows  from  all  this  that  what  we  will  to  do  often 
depends  upon  constructive  imagination.  Men  do  rash 
things  because  they  do  not  clearly  realize  the  conse- 
quences of  their  conduct.  Help  a  boy  form  the  habit 
of  clearly  and  fully  realizing  the  probable  conse- 
quences of  his  conduct — help  him  form  the  habit  of 
realizing  that  the  consequences  of  our  acts  depend  not 
upon  our  wishes  and  intentions,  but  upon  the  nature 
of  our  acts — and  you  have  gone  a  long  way  toward 
giving  him  the  power  and  the  habit  of  willing  intel- 
ligently. 

This  brief  survey  of  the  relation  of  imagination  to 
our  mental  life  enables  us  to  realize  what  indeed  a  con- 
sideration of  its  nature  would  have  enabled  us  to  see 
beforehand — that  the  part  it  plays  in  our  mental  life  is 
of  the  very  highest  importance.  Not  reality,  but 
what  gets  represented  in  our  minds  as  reality— not 
what  is,  but  what  is  imaged — affects  our  mental  life. 
It  is  exceedingly  interesting  and  instructive  to  note 
the  naive  self-importance  of  a  child — the  belief  that  ap- 
pears in  so  many  forms  that  the  world  exists  for  him. 
The  stern  relentlessness  of  nature — the  stoic  disregard 
of  our  desires  and  wishes  with  which  she  pushes  on  to 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  239 

her  own  ends,  trampling  us  under  foot  if  we  but  cross 
her  path — has  not  got  imaged  in  his  mind.  And  until 
it  does,  his  attitude  toward  the  world  is  precisely  the 
same  as  though  his  thoughts  were  true.  If,  indeed,  it 
is  true — and  is  it  not? — that  all  good  causes  depend 
upon  the  right  training  of  the  child,  is  it  not  evident 
what  tremendous  importance  attaches  to  the  right 
training  of  the  faculty  that  constitutes  the  audience- 
chamber  in  which  Reality  gets  its  only  hearing? 

The  accurate  study  of  any  subject  is  a  training  of 
the  imagination,  and  yet  there  is  scarcely  one  that 
does  not  tend  to  dispose  the  mind  to  be  inhospitable 
to  the  images  that  represent  certain  phases  of  Reality. 
The  specialist  in  mathematics  is  in  danger  of  forgetting 
that  not  all  reality  is  demonstrable ;  hints  and  sug- 
gestions and  probabilities,  that  fall  short  of  demon- 
stration, he  is  in  danger  of  despising.  The  specialist 
in  literature  is  in  danger  of  thinking  of  the  attainment 
of  truth  as  a  too  altogether  easy  matter.  What  did 
Shakspere  mean?  What  he — the  student — finds  in 
him.  And  he  is  in  danger  of  being  much  too  ready  to 
project  himself  after  the  same  fashion  into  the  g^eat 
Book  of  Nature,  and  get  at  the  heart  of  her  mysteries 
in  the  same  easy  way.  The  specialist  in  any  branch 
of  natural  science  is  in  danger  of  forgetting  that  there 


24©  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

are  any  facts  except  those  that  can  be  weighed  and 
measured,  or  that  anything  is  worthy  of  belief  that 
can  not  be  proved  experimentally.  The  specialist  in 
mind  is,  or  rather  was  (it  is  scarcely  true  now  that  so 
much  stress  is  laid  on  Physiological  Psychology),  in 
danger  of  undervaluing  the  methods  of  natural  science 
— the  methods  that  have  so  completely  transformed 
the  civilization  of  this  century. 

All  this  enables  us  to  see  that  one  of  our  great  in- 
tellectual needs  is  breadth  of  culture,  which  is  indeed, 
for  the  most  part,  but  another  name  for  that  training 
which  makes  us  disposed  and  able  to  give  a  fair  hear- 
ing to  all  sides  of  Reality,  and  that  we  are  in  danger  of 
missing  it  through  too  early  specialization. 

But  while  the  various  subjects  mentioned  above  af- 
ford scope  for  the  cultivation  of  the  imagination,  we 
shall,  of  course,  bear  in  mind  that  the  subjects  especi- 
ally adapted  to  its  training  in  the  public  schools  are 
history  and  geography.  We  should  prepare  to  teach 
history  in  part  by  getting  a  thorough  comprehension 
of  the  motives  of  the  men  who  played  a  leading  part  in 
history ;  and  we  should  endeavor  to  give  our  pupils 
such  insight  into  their  characters  as  to  check  the 
tendency  to  unqualified  praise  and  blame.  We  should 
also  try  to  give  them  the  power  to  hold  in  their  minds 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  24 1 

complex  groups  of  facts,  that  they  may  see  their  re- 
lations to  each  other.  In  descriptive  geography,  we 
should  try  to  leave  in  their  minds  definite  and  clear 
images  of  the  countries  they  are  studying.  See  the 
kind  of  knowledge  of  Tasmania  Dr.  Arnold  wanted: 
"Will  you  describe  to  me  the  general  aspect  of  the 
country  round  Hobart  Town?  To  this  day  I  never 
could  meet  with  a  description  of  the  common  face  of 
the  country  about  New  York  or  Boston  or  Philadelphia, 
and  therefore  I  have  no  distinct  ideas  of  it.  Is  your 
country  plain  or  undulating,  your  valleys  deep  or 
shallow,  curving,  or  with  steep  sides  and  flat  bottoms? 
Are  your  fields  large  or  small,  parted  by  hedges  or 
stone  walls,  with  single  trees  about  them,  or  patches 
of  wood  here  and  there?  Are  there  many  scattered 
houses,  and  what  are  they  built  of — brick,  wood,  or 
stone?  And  what  are  the  hills  and  streams  like — 
ridges  or  with  waving  summits,  with  plain  sides  or  in- 
dented with  combs,  full  of  springs  or  dry,  and  what  is 
their  geology?"  Such  a  knowledge  of  the  look  of  a 
country  we  want  to  get  and  give  our  pupils. 

But  there  are  other  suggestions  that  I  think  we 
should  get  from  this  study  of  imagination.     We  have 
seen  how  universally  active  the  constructive  imagina- 
tion is,  and  yet  that  it  depends  for  its  materials  upon  the 
16 


242  LKSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

reproductive  imagination.  We  see,  therefore,  from  a 
new  point  of  v^'ew  the  necessity  of  making  a  careful 
study  of  our  pupils.  You  would  not  hire  a  man  to 
build  a  house  without  furnishing  the  necessary  ma- 
terials. Be  equally  reasonable  with  your  pupils,  and 
do  not  expect  them  to  build  images  out  of  nothing. 
Many  a  little  boy  or  girl  has  an  utterly  erroneous  idea 
of  an  ocean,  because  the  teacher  has  not  taken  pains  to 
dwell  on  the  experiences  the  images  of  which  would 
have  made  the  required  activity  of  the  constructive 
imagination  possible. 

But  with  all  the  pains  you  may  take,  if  you  want 
to  be  sure  that  your  pupils  have  performed  the  neces- 
sary acts  of  constructive  imagination,  there  is  but  one 
way — by  questioning.  We  are  constantly  talking  to 
our  pupils  about  matters  that,  by  long  reading  and  re- 
flection, have  become  familiar  to  us.  First  compre- 
hended with  difficulty,  the}'  have  become  so  simple  that 
we  forget  how  they  looked  when  our  minds  got  their 
first  glimpse  of  them.  We  can  hardly  realize  that 
what  is  .so  simple  to  us  should  be  difficult  to  any  one, 
and  we  never  shall  realize  it  save  by  everlasting  ques- 
tioning. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  243 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Summarize  the  conclusions  reached  in  the  last  lesson. 

2.  Contrast  the  ordinary  ideas  of  imagination  with  that 
set  forth  in  this  lesson. 

3.  Why  is  it  that  the  works  of  "  creative  imagination  " 
are  often  beyond  the  comprehension  of  the  age  in  which  they 
were  produced  ? 

4.  Show  the  influence  of  the  feelings  on  constructive 
imagination,  and  of  the  constructive  imagination  on  the 
feelings. 

5.  Account  for  strong  partisanship. 

6.  What  is  "  the  severance  of  feeling  from  will  ?  " 

7.  Show  the  place  and  importance  of  imagination  in  our 
mental  life. 

8.  What  is  breadth  of  culture,  and  how  can  it  be  gained? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Mathematicians  and  musicians  to-day  understand 
with  ease  Newton's  Principia  and  Beethoven's  Grand  Synt- 
phoity ;  account  for  the  fact. 

2.  Make  a  study  of  the  minds  of  the  children  you  meet 
for  the  purpose  of  learning  (i)  what  they  have  formed  images 
of;  and  (2)  to  what  an  extent  their  images  are  due  to  their 
social  surroundings,  and  to  what  an  extent  to  the  common 
impulses  of  childhood. 

3.  How  would  you  try  to  cultivate  a  spirit  of  open- 
mindedness? 

4.  What  subject  in  the  public  school  course  oflfers  the 
best  material  for  this  purpose  ? 

5.  How  would  you  try  to  prevent  the  severance  of  feeling 
from  will  ? 

6.  Do  persons  who  are  "  naturally  suspicious  "  get  pleas- 
ure from  indulging  their  suspicious,  even  when  what  they 
suspect  is  unpleasant  ? 


244  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


I^ESSON  XXIV. 

CONCEPTION. 

THE  word  "dog"  evidently  does  not  mean  the 
same  as  "this  dog."  "This  dog"  may  be  a 
long-haired,  long-nosed,  long-eared  black  dog,  with 
white  spots  on  his  back  ;  while  "dog"  is  the  name  not 
only  of  this  dog,  but  of  all  dogs  whatever.  The  same 
is  true,  of  course,  of  all  general  names.  All  general 
names  are  names  of  classes — names  that  are  applicable 
to  every  individual  of  the  class — while  particular 
names,  such  as  proper  nouns  and  common  nouns,  lim- 
ited by  words  like  "this"  and  "that,"  are  names  that 
can  be  applied  in  the  same  sense  to  but  one  individual. 
How  did  the  mind  get  this  power — this  power  to  use 
class-names  intelligently?  We  never  see  a  class  ;*  we 
only  see  individuals.  Classes  do  not  make  themselves 
known  to  us  through  any  of  the  senses.  How,  then, 
does  the  mind  form  an  idea  of  a  class?  To  answer  that 
question  is  to  state  what  the  mind  does  in  conception, 

*It  is,  of  course,  understood  that  I  am  using  the  word 
"class"  to  denote  an  indefinite  number  of  individuals  that 
resemble  each  other  in  certain  particulars. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  245 

for  conception  is  that  act  of  the  mind  by  which  it  forms 
an  idea  of  a  class,  or  that  act  of  the  mind  that  enables 
us  to  use  general  names  hitelligently. 

We  have  seen  that  our  mental  life  begins  with  un- 
classified, unknown,  indefinite,  undifferenced  sensa- 
tions— that  the  first  step  towards  a  knowledge  of  things 
consists  in  the  transformation  of  what  we  can  only  de- 
scribe as  vague  feeling  into  definite  sensations  of  this 
and  that  character.  I  say  the  first  step.  We  must  be 
careful  to  note  that  this  transformation  is  not  finished, 
a  child  does  not  become  conscious  of  definite  sensa- 
tions of  sound  and  taste  before  it  begins  to  take  the 
second  step — before  it  begins  to  localize  its  sensations. 
We  must  think  of  this  transformation  not  as  an  in- 
stantaneous process,  but  as  a  gradual  change.  A 
change  in  the  direction  of  decreasing  indefiniteness  in 
sensations  is  undoubtedly  the  first  change  in  the  direc- 
tion of  knowledge  of  things,  or,  indeed,  of  any  know- 
ledge whatever.  But  before  any  sensation  has  the 
definite  character  our  sensations  now  have  when  we 
attend  to  them,  the  child  begins  to  take  the  second 
step — it  begins  to  localize  its  sensations. 

But  here  again  we  must  note  that  this  feeling  of 
place  may  have  very  different  degrees  of  definiteness. 
Even  in  our  mature  experiences  we  are  sometimes 


246  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

conscious  of  sensations  of  pain  without  being  able  to 
locate  them  precisely,  as  when  we  have  the  toothache 
and  don't  know  exactly  which  tooth  aches.  This 
process  of  localization,  then,  is  at  first  a  vague  feeling  of 
whereness ;  and  before  this  vague  feeling  becomes  a 
knowledge  of  a  definite  place — before  the  second 
step  towards  a  knowledge  of  things  has  been  fully 
taken — the  third  begins ;  the  child's  sensations  are  be- 
ginning to  be  grouped  together  and  regarded  as  qual- 
ities of  external  objects. 

Let  us  suppose  the  three  steps  taken ;  let  us  sup- 
pose that  a  child  has  come  to  know  a  long-haired,  long- 
nosed,  long-eared  black  dog,  with  white  spots  on  his 
back,  to  such  an  extent  that,  when  asked  where  the 
dog  is,  he  looks  at  him,  and  says  "dog"  when  he  sees 
him,  as  soon  as  he  begins  to  talk.  In  what  does  this 
knowledge  consist?  In  the  fact  that  he  has  associated 
certain  sensations  of  color  with  certain  sensations  of 
touch — those  which  he  has  received  from  running  his 
hand  over  the  dog — and  both  these  with  the  name 
dog.  This  is  how  it  happens  that  when  he  sees  or  feels 
the  dog  he  thinks  of  the  name,  and  that  when  he  hears 
the  name  he  thinks  of  the  dog.  The  sensations  of 
color  and  touch  and  the  name  dog  have  become  so 
tied  together  ■)y  association  bj'  contiguity  that  one 
always  brings  the  other  to  his  mind. 


I<IJ;SSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  247 

But  now  we  need  to  remember  that  the  pair  so  tied 
together  is,  strictly  speaking,  not  one  pair  at  all,  but 
an  indefinite  number  of  pairs  more  or  less  closely  re- 
sembling   each    other.     No    matter  who  says  dog, 
whether  papa  or  mamma  or  brother  or  sister  or  nurse, 
whether  the  word  is  pronounced  in  a  high  or  low  tone 
of  voice,  whether  the  speaker  is  one  foot  or  ten  feet 
away,  the  child  thinks  of  dog.     But  the  sensations  of 
sound  in  each  of  these  cases  is  different.     No  matter 
where  he  sees  the  dog,  whether  in  doors  or  out;  no 
matter  what  the  dog  is  doing,  whether  eating  or  drink- 
ing, walking,  running,  standing,  or  lying  down,  the 
child  recognizes  him— thinks  of  his  name.     But  the 
sensations  of  color  in  each  of  these  cases  is  different. 
This  looks  like  general  knowledge  to  begin  with.   We 
are  trying  to  learn  how  the  mind  forms  general  ideas- 
how  it  gains  the  power   to  use  general  names  intel- 
ligently.    It  looks  as  though  it  exercises  this  power 
even  in  knowing  individual  objects.   The  spoken  word 
dog  is  itself  the  name  of  a  large  class  of  sounds;  for,  as 
we  have  seen,  it  is  not  only  a  different  sound  in  the 
mouth  of  every  different  speaker,  but  in  no  two  cases 
do  they  exactly  resemble  each  other.     The  sensations 
of  color,  also,  received  from  the  dog  are  not  the  same 
sensations,  but  an  indefinitely  large  class  of  more  or 


248  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

less  closely  resembling  sensations.  The  child,  then,  in 
recognizing  the  word  dog  whenever  he  hears  it,  and 
the  sensations  of  color  received  from  the  dog  when- 
ever he  sees  him,  seems  to  perform  a  mental  act  very 
much  like  recognizing  any  dog  whenever  he  sees  him; 
but  that  implies  a  knowledge  of  the  class  dog — im- 
plies, in  a  word,  the  exercise  of  the  very  power  of  con- 
ception we  are  trying  to  explain. 

But  are  we  not  mistaken  ?  Students  of  mind,  from 
Aristotle  down,  have  noticed  that  when  a  child  begins 
to  talk  it  calls  all  men  papa  indiscriminately.  What  is 
the  explanation  of  this  ?  It  must  be  either  that  the 
child  perceives  the  resemblance  between  other  men 
and  his  papa,  and  applies  the  same  name  to  them 
because  of  their  resemblance — knowing,  nevertheless, 
that  they  are  different  individuals — or  that  he  confuses 
every  man  with  his  papa,  because  he  sees  no  difference 
between  them.  If  we  accept  the  latter,  we  must  say 
with  Hamilton,  that  "in  the  mouths  of  children 
language  at  first  expresses  neither  the  precisely  general 
nor  the  determinately  individtial,  but  the  vagJie  and 
confused,''  and  that  this  vague  and  confused  idea,  modi- 
fied in  one  direction,  becomes  the  definite  knowledge  of 
an  individual,  modified  in  another,  the  definite  know- 
ledge of  a  class.     Papa,  for  example,  would  not  mean 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  249 

to  a  child  his  own  father,  neither  would  it  be  the  name 
of  a  class  perceived  to  consist  of  different  individuals, 
but  the  name  applied  to  resembling  individuals  not 
known  to  be  different. 

In  discussing  this  question,  we  must  try  to  get  at 
the  heart  of  the  matter ;  we  must  try  to  separate  what 
is  merely  accidental  and  incidental  from  what  is 
essential.  What  is  the  essential  fact  maintained?  It 
is  that  the  first  knowledge  of  children  of  the  persons 
and  things  about  them  is  not  of  persons  and  known 
things  to  be  definite  individuals,  but  of  persons  and 
things  confused  with  each  other,  because  of  their  re- 
semblances. This  may  be  true,  and  the  contention  of 
Aristotle  and  of  many  students  of  mind  since  his  time 
— that  children  call  all  men  papa,  for  example,  indis- 
criminately— false.  Children  begin  to  talk  at  quite 
difierent  stages  of  their  development.  If  the  theory 
is  true,  we  may  expect,  therefore,  to  see  evidences  of 
this  confusion  in  the  language  of  some  children  when 
they  begin  to  talk,  and  not  in  that  of  others. 

I  believe  that  the  first  knowledge  of  children  is  of 
this  character:  {\)  because  the  mind  perceives  resem- 
blances tnore  easily  than  differences.  I  know  two 
brothers  whom  at  first  I  could  scarcely  tell  apart;  now, 
I  see  that  they  are  so  unlike  that  it  is  hard  to  realize 


250  1,ESS0NS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  I  should  ever  have  confused  them.    What  is  the 
explanation  ?     At  first   I  saw  resemblaiices  only;  not 
until  I  had  seen  them  often  did  I  7iote  the  differences 
between  them.      Children's  minds  evidently  work  the 
same  way.      Ducks,  geese,  swans,  are  all  ducks  to 
them.     And  we  may  expect  them  to  show  as  much 
less  power  in  perceiving  differences  than  we  possess 
as   their   minds   are   less   developed   than    ours.     (2) 
There  are  cases  in  n'hich  children  imquestionably  con- 
fuse different  individuals,  one  of  whom  they  know  well, 
because  of  their  resemblances.     Perez  tells  the  follow- 
ing story  of  a  child  of  thirteen  months :  "As  one  of 
his  cousins  was  like  his  uncle,  having  the  same  sort  of 
beard,  and  the  same  kind  of  figure  and  voice,  the  child 
treated  him  at  once  as  an  old  acquaintance.    He  called 
him  Toto  (the  name  he  had  given  to  his  uncle).    .    .    . 
Seeing  a  pencil  in  his  cousin's  hand,  he  took  it  from 
him,  put  it  in  his  mouth,  and  made  with  his  lips  the 
movements  and  sounds  of  a  man  who  is  smoking  and 
puffing  his  smoke  in  the  air.     His  uncle  used  to  smoke. 
When  he  got  down  from  the  table  he  said,  '  lou,  lou, 
lou,  lou,'  in  a  tone  of  entreaty.     This  was  explained 
to  the  cousin  as  signifying  that  he  was  to  imitate  the 
dog  as  his  uncle  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  to  the  child's 
great   delight.     Out  in   the   garden  the   child   made 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  2$1 

another  request,  which  his  cousin  did  not  understand, 
much  to  the  astonishment  of  the  former,  who  was 
accustomed  to  being  instantly  obeyed  by  his  uncle. 
.  .  .  His  cousin,  havnng  been  coached  up  in  his 
part,  humored,  as  far  as  possible,  all  the  habits  which 
his  uncle  had  made  necessary  to  the  child ;  but  some 
he  replaced  by  ways  of  his  own ;  and  the  end  of  it  was, 
that  after  being  with  his  cousin  three  weeks  the  child 
afterwards  expected  from  his  uncle  all  the  gestures, 
tones  of  voice,  games,  indulgences,  and  acts  of  obe- 
dience which  the  new  Tofo  had  accustomed  him  to." 
vSuch  facts  seem  to  show  that  the  first  knowledge 
of  children  is  neither  of  individuals  nor  of  classes. 
Not  of  individuals,  because  the  child  has  only  noted 
resemblances  between  things,  or  between  the  same 
thing  seen  at  different  times.  But  the  perception  of 
individuals  is  impossible  without  the  perception  of 
differences.  Two  men  with  exactly  similar  beard, 
same  complexion,  of  the  same  size — exactly  similar  in 
every  respect,  and  occupying  the  same  position — would 
not  be  two  men,  but  one.  Two  men  also  who  seemed 
to  be  exactly  alike  in  every  respect  would  be  regarded 
a:>  the  same  person,  however  unlike  they  might  be. 
Also,  the  first  knowledge  of  children  is  not  of  classes, 
because,  until  they  know  individuals,  they   can  not 


252  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

know  classes,  since  a  class  means  and  is  nothing  but  a 
collection  of  individuals  resembling  each  other  in 
certain  particulars.  But  their  first  ideas  of  things  are 
vague,  confused  ideas  of  resemblances  between  things 
not  known  to  be  different.  To  avoid  circumlocution, 
we  will  call  this  idea  a  class-hnage. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Trace  the  progress  of  the  mind  from  indefinite  sensar 
tions  to  the  knowledge  of  external  objects. 

2.  What  kind  of  knowledge  do  children  first  gain  of  ex- 
ternal objects? 

3.  Justify  your  answer. 

4.  State  the  case  reported  by  Perez.  What  does  it  prove? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Report  any  cases  similar  to  the  one  reported  by  Perez, 
that  have  come  under  your  o1>servation. 

2.  Have  you  noticed  children  calling  other  men  papa, 
and  if  so,  did  you  notice  whether  they  seemed  to  look  upon 
them  as  strangers,  or  whether  their  manner  towards  them  was 
the  same  as  towards  their  own  papa? 

3.  Can  you  prove  by  your  observation  of  children  that 
they  perceive  resemblances  more  easily  than  differences  ? 

4.  Can  you  prove  by  your  own  experience  that  you  do 
the  same  thing? 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  253 


LESSON   XXV. 

CONCEPTION. 

SINCE  a  knowledge  of  class  images  antecedes  a 
knowledge  of  individuals,  to  explain  conception 
we  have  first  to  explain  how  the  knowledge  of  class 
images  externalized  as  things  becomes  a  knowledge  of 
definite  individuals.  Evidently  the  various  steps  or 
stages  that  mark  the  progress  of  the  mind  from  those 
undifferentiated,  indefinite  sensations  with  which  our 
mental  life  began  to  the  formation  of  concepts  are  (i) 
the  knowlege  of  class  images  externalized  as  things ; 
(2)  the  knowledge  of  individuals ;  and  (3)  the  forma- 
tion of  concepts. 

To  see  how  the  knowledge  of  class  images  exter- 
nalized as  things  becomes  the  knowledge  of  individ- 
uals, we  must  study  our  own  experiences.  Why  did 
I  confuse  the  two  brothers  mentioned  in  the  last  les- 
son? Because  I  saw  no  differences  between  them. 
It  seems  hard  to  realize  that  a  child  can  see  no  differ- 
ence between  a  large  man  with  a  full  beard  and  a 
small  one  with  none.  But  our  powers  of  perceiving 
both  resemblances  and  differences  are  much  greater 


254  I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

than  a  child's;  and  if  I  could  confuse  two  people 
whom  I  now  see  to  be  very  unlike,  we  shall  be  able 
to  realize  that  a  child  may  see  two  very  dififerent 
things  without  being  able  to  observe  any  difference 
between  them.  How  did  I  finally  gain  the  power  to 
tell  them  apart  ?  By  withdrawing  my  attention  from 
them  as  wholes  and  fixing  it  tipon  individiial  features 
— size,  color  of  eyes,  and  the  like.  In  precisely  simi- 
lar ways  the  child  gains  the  power  to  distinguish  in- 
dividuals. And  here  we  can  see  why  it  is  so  hard  for 
him  to  acquire  it.  It  is  so  easy  for  you  to  withdraw 
your  attention  from  objects  as  wholes  and  fix  it  upon 
parts  or  qualities,  but  it  is  v^ry  hard  for  a  child.  The 
individual  features  are  there,  but  he  does  not  see 
them  because  he  does  not  attend  to  them.  But  little 
by  little  he  gains  the  power  to  fix  his  attention  upon 
individual  features,  and  as  he  acquires  it  he  gains  a 
knowledge  of  individuals. 

When  a  child  distinguishes  individuals  because  he 
notes  .some  of  the  diflferences  between  them,  it  is  easy 
to  see  that  he  will  first  note  only  the  most  striking 
differences.  The  first  difference  that  he  notes  be- 
tween a  big  black  dog  and  a  small  white  one  is  proba- 
bly a  difference  in  color.  The  class  image  of  dog  has 
become,  on  the  one  hand,  the  perception  of  individ- 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  255 

ual  dogs.  Seeing  no  difference  between  them  except 
in  color,  and  noticing  that  they  are  both  called  dogs, 
he  drops  out  of  his  class  image  of  dog  the  element  of 
color,  and  associates  what  is  left  with  the  name  dog 
whenever  he  hears  it.  What  is  left  of  the  class  hnage 
when  the  element  of  color  is  dropped  out  of  it  is  a  rudi- 
me7itary  concept,  and  the  act  of  mind  by  which  it  is 
reached  is  conception. 

Let  us  observe  closely  the  steps  that  led  from  the 
percept  of  the  individual  to  the  concept  of  the  class. 
The  first  step  taken  by  the  child  towards  the  forma- 
tion of  the  concept  coyisisted  in  fixing  his  attentioti 
upon  both  dogs,  or  jipon  one  dog  aiid  an  image  of  the 
other  at  the  same  time.  Let  us  call  this  first  step 
comparison.  The  second  consisted  in  withdrawing 
his  att€7ition  from  the  point  of  unlikeness — color — and 
fixing  it  upon  their  points  of  likeness.  Precisely  as 
an  essential  step  towards  a  knowledge  of  individuals 
consists  in  withdrawing  the  attention  from  the  ob- 
jects as  wholes  and  fixing  it  upon  individual 
parts  or  features,  so  an  essential  step  towards  a 
formation  of  concepts  consists  in  withdrawing  the 
attention  from  the  points  in  which  the  objects 
compared  are  seen  to  be  unlike,  and  fixing  it 
upon  those  in  which  they  are  seen  to  be  like.     Let  us 


256  LSSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

call  this  step  abstraction.  The  third  step  consisted 
in  applying  the  name  dog  to  all  other  objects  having  the 
same  characteristics — i7i  making  the  name  general  by 
making  it  the  name  of  a  class.  Let  us  call  this  gener- 
alization. These  three  acts  of  the  mind,  then — com- 
parison, or  the  fixing  of  the  attention  upon  two  or 
more  objects  at  the  same  time ;  abstraction,  or  with- 
drawing it  from  some  of  their  unlikenesses  and  put- 
ting it  upon  some  of  their  likenesses ;  generalization, 
or  the  making  of  a  name  general  by  making  it 
the  name  of  all  the  individuals  possessing  similar 
qualities — are  the  three  acts  that  constitute  conception. 
We  see  at  once  that  the  concept — the  product  of  con- 
ception— is  liable  to  constant  change.  The  only  dif- 
ference that  the  child  first  observes  between  the  two 
dogs  is  a  difference  in  color.  As  he  observes  them  more 
and  more  carefully  he  notices  more  and  more  differ- 
ences— the  word  dog  means  a  smaller  and  smaller 
number  of  attributes.  And  when  he  hears  the  name 
applied  to  other  animals  he  naturally  puts  them  in 
the  same  class,  and  the  meaning  of  dog  is  correspond- 
ingly reduced,  although  each  separate  act  of  abstrac- 
tion is  followed  by  an  act  of  generalization — the 
extending  of  the  name  so  reduced  in  meaning  to  all 
objects  having  the  common  characteristics  he  has 
observed. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  257 

But  while  a  more  careful  and  a  wider  observation 
of  dogs  in  this  way  reduces  the  concept,  it  may  en- 
large it  in  another  way.  The  child  may  notice  points 
of  resemblance  before  unobserved.  In  this  way  his 
concept  is  made  to  include  more  attributes — the  class 
name  comes  to  have  a  richer  meaning. 

The  attention  that  results  in  comparison  and  ab- 
straction may  be  either  voluntary  or  involuntary,  and 
therefore  concepts  may  be  formed  voluntarily  or  in- 
voluntarily. We  know  from  our  study  of  attention 
that  the  concepts  that  a  child  forms  in  the  first  years 
of  his  life  will,  for  the  most  part,  be  formed  involun- 
tarily because  he  is  not  able  to  give  much  voluntary 
attention. 

Of  course,  concepts  formed  on  this  by-rule-of- 
thumb  manner  are  indistinct  and  inaccurate.  They 
are  sure  to  contain  attributes  that  careful  observation 
would  exclude,  and  not  to  include  others  that  such 
observation  would  bring  to  light.  But  we  must  re- 
member that  it  is  exactly  this  kind  of  concepts  that 
constitutes  the  furniture  of  a  child's  mind  when  he 
first  starts  to  school.  To  transform  these  indistinct 
and  inaccurate  concepts  into  those  that  are  distinct 
and  accurate — to  enlarge  the  number  of  concepts — is 
evidently  an  important  part  of  education. 

17 


258  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY, 

We  shall  be  able  to  do  this  more  intelligently  if  we 
remember  not  only  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
formed,  but  the  condition  upon  which  their  formation 
depends.  That  condition  is  the  perception  of  resevi- 
blances  between  different  individuals.  Until  resem- 
blances are  perceived,  no  concept  of  the  resembling 
objects  can  be  formed.  That  is  why  a  child  finds  it  so 
hard  to  understand  the  meaning  of  numbers.  Four 
horses,  four  cats,  four  toys,  etc.,  resemble  each  other 
in  being  four,  but  they  seem  to  the  young  child  to  have 
nothing  in  common — and  therefore  he  does  not  know 
what  you  mean  when  you  call  them  all  fours.  Not  till 
his  mind  is  able  to  detach  the  fact  common  to  them 
all  will  he  be  able  to  understand  you. 

The  clear  perception  of  this  truth  will  save  us 
from  the  mistake  into  which  some  eminent  writers  on 
Pedagogy'^  have  fallen — of  supposing  that  because  the 
child  perceives  resemblances  more  easily  than  diflfer- 
ences  that,  therefore,  we  should  begin  by  teaching 
him  the  widest  classes — for  instance,  plants — before 
any  of  the  sub-classes  —roses,  geraniums,  sun-flowers, 
etc.  Manifestly  a  child  can  form  a  concept  of  roses 
when  he  can  not  of  plants,  because  he  can  see  the  re- 
semblances between .  the  former  when  he  can  not  see 
them  between  the  latter. 

*See  Rosmini's  "  Method  in  Education,"  page  17. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  259 

QUESTIONS  ON   THE  TEXT. 

I.    Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  last  lesson. 
t.     Define  class  image.     What  is  meant  by  "  externalized 
as  things  ? " 

3.  What  is  the  first  thing  to  be  done  in  explaining  con- 
ception, and  why  ? 

4.  How  does  a  child  come  to  know  individual  persons 
and  things  ? 

5.  State   and   explain   the  two   directions  in  which  the 
class  image  is  modified. 

6.  State  and   explain    the  three  processes   involved  in 
conception. 

7.  What  is  the  di£Ference  between  percept,  image,  and 
concept  ? 

8.  In  what  two  ways  are  concepts  formed  ? 

9.  What  kind  of  concepts  has  a  child  when  he  first  starts 
to  school  ? 

10.  Upon  what  condition  does  the  formation  of  concepts 
depend  ? 

11.  What  mistake  did  Rosmini  make,  and  why  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  At  what  age  do  children  geiierally  begin  to  under- 
stand the  meaning  of  numbers  ? 

2.  Why  is  it  desirable  to  use  a  variety  of  objects — sticks, 
straws,  grains  of  corn,  etc. — in  teaching  children  to  count? 

3.  Does  this  lesson  throw  any  light  on  the  question  as  to 
the  proper  age  for  taking  up  the  study  of  grammar  ? 


26o  I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

LESSON    XXVI. 

CONCEPTION. 

WE  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  involuntary  con- 
cepts are  almost  certain  to  be  indistinct  and 
inaccurate,  and  that  when  children  first  start  to  school, 
unless  they  have  been  carefully  instructed  at  home, 
nearly  all  their  concepts  are  of  this  kind.  They 
have  observed  the  objects  they  see  about  them 
closely  enough  to  learn  their  names,  and  talk  about 
them  with  a  certain  degree  of  intelligence.  Because 
they  can  apply  their  names  correctly,  teachers  are  in 
great  danger  of  thinking  that  the  corresponding  con- 
cepts are  all  that  they  need  to  be.  But  that  is  a  mis- 
take. "  While  an  external  object  may  be  viewed  by 
thousands  in  common,"  said  Professor  S.  S.  Green, 
"  the  idea  or  image  of  it  addresses  itself  only  to  the 
individual  consciousness.  My  idea  or  image  of  it  is 
mine  alone — the  reward  of  careless  observation,  if 
imperfect ;  of  attentive,  careful,  and  varied  observa- 
tion, if  correct.  Between  mine  and  yours  a  great  gulf 
is  fixed.  No  man  can  pass  from  mine  to  yours,  or 
from  yours  to  mine.     Neither  in  any  proper  sense  of 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  26 1 

the  term  can  mine  be  conveyed  to  you.  Words  do  not 
convey  thoughts  ;  they  are  not  the  vehicles  of  thoughts 
in  any  true  sense  of  that  term.  A  word  is  simply  a  com- 
mon symbol  which  each  associates  with  his  own  idea  or 
image. 

"  Neither  can  I  compare  mine  with  yours  except 
through  the  mediation  of  external  objects.  And  then 
how  now  do  I  know  that  they  are  alike ;  that  a  meas- 
ure called  a  foot,  for  instance,  seems  as  long  to  you  as 
to  me  ?  My  idea  of  a  new  object  which  you  and  I 
observe  together  may  be  very  imperfect.  By  it  I  may 
attribute  to  the  object  what  does  not  belong  to  it, 
take  from  it  what  does,  distort  its  form,  or  otherwise 
pervert  it.  Suppose,  now,  at  the  time  of  observation 
we  agree  upon  a  word  as  a  sig7i  or  symbol  for  the  ob- 
ject or  the  idea  of  it.  The  object  is  withdrawn  ;  the 
idea  only  remains — imperfect,  in  my  case ;  complete 
and  vivid  in  yours.  The  sign  is  employed.  Does  it 
bring  back  the  original  object?  By  no  means.  Does 
it  convey  my  idea  to  your  mind?  Nothing  of  the 
kind  ;  you  would  be  disgusted  with  the  shapeless  im- 
age. Does  it  convey  yours  to  me  ?  No ;  I  should  be 
delighted  at  the  sight.  What  does  it  effect?  /t  be- 
comes the  occasion  for  each  to  call  up  his  oicn  image. 
Does  each  now  contemplate  the  same  thing  ?    What 


262  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

multitudes  of  dissimilar  images  instantly  spring  up  at 
the  announcement  of  the  same  symbol! — dissimilar 
not  because  of  anything  in  the  one  source  whence 
they  are  derived,  but  because  of  either  an  inattentive 
and  imperfect  observation  of  that  source,  or  of  some 
constitutional  or  habitual  defect  in  the  use  of  the  per- 
ceptive faculty." 

What,  then,  can  we  do  to  make  these  involuntary, 
and  therefore  indistinct  and  inaccurate,  concepts  dis- 
tinct and  accurate?  When  a  child  starts  to  school,  he 
attaches  a  meaning  to  near,  far,  7iarrow,  and  many 
similar  words,  but  his  concept  of  them  is  based  entirely 
on  his  own  observations,  and  is  therefore  very  inac- 
curate. Shall  we  seek  to  make  his  concepts  accurate 
by  definitions?  No ;  for  he  can  not  understand  our 
definitions  unless  he  has  accurate  concepts  correspond- 
ing to  the  words  we  use.  We  must  get  him  to  follow 
the  path  that  leads  to  accurate  concepts ;  we  must  get 
him  to  compare  a  large  enough  variety  of  near  and 
narrow  objects  to  enable  him  to  apprehend  the  one 
common  quality  that  such  objects  possess — we  must 
get  him  to  compare,  abstract,  and  generalize. 

But  while  it  is  necessary  for  j'ou  to  bring  the  mind 
of  your  pupil  into  contact  with  particulars  in  order  to 
make   his  concepts    accurate,  the  very  necessity  of 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  263 

doing  it  shows  the  need  of  exercising  care  as  to  the 
kind  of  particulars  you  select.  Why  is  a  child's  con- 
cept of  narrow  inaccurate?  Because  he  has  considered 
only  certain  kinds  of  narrow  things — narrow  ribbons, 
narrow  paths,  narrow  planks,  and  the  like.  A  young 
man  told  me  that  until  he  was  eight  years  old  he 
thought  all  rivers  were  like  the  one  near  his  home. 
We  see,  therefore,  the  necessity  of  selecting  particulars 
that  show  all  the  extreme  varieties^ 

Begin  also  with  particulars  that  give  prominence 
to  the  main  idea.  If  you  are  teaching  your  pupils 
what  an  island  is,  call  their  attention  first  to  an  island 
far  from  the  mainland,  in  order  that  the  characteristic 
quality  of  an  island  may  be  brought  out  prominently. 

Select  your  particulars  also  solely  with  reference  to 
the  end  in  view.  Do  not  select  such  as  have  an  in- 
terest in  them.selves,  because  they  attract  the  attention 
to  features  that  are  not  included  in  the  concept — 
features,  therefore,  that  you  wish  the  child  to  ignore. 

Finally,  stick  to  your  purpose  until  it  is  accom- 
plished. Accumulate  particular  after  particular  until 
the  desired  concept  is  formed,  allowing  yourself  to  be 
tempted  into  no  digression  whatever.  Of  course  we 
should  pursue  the  same  method  in  developing  new 
concepts. 

*See  Bain's  Education  as  a  Science,  page  92. 


264  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  in  most  cases  our  pupils  have  no  names  for  the 
new  concepts  we  help  them  to  form  until  we  give 
them.  When  should  we  give  them?  Evidently  not 
until  they  need  them.  Language  serves  two  purposes. 
In  the  first  place,  it  enables  us  to  preserve  the  results 
of  our  own  thinking.  When  we  have  performed  these 
processes  of  comparison,  abstraction,  and  generaliza- 
tion— when  we  have  formed  a  concept — if  we  did  not 
give  it  a  name,  there  would  be  nothing  to  fix  it  in  our 
minds.  When  we  associate  a  name  with  the  concept, 
the  name  enables  us  to  recall  it  without  repeating  the 
processes  of  comparison,  abstraction,  and  generaliza- 
tion that  in  the  first  place  enabled  us  to  form  it.  But 
we  have  no  use  for  general  names  to  assist  us  in  fixing 
concepts  in  our  minds  until  we  have  formed  the  con- 
cepts of  which  they  are  names.  When  we  consider  the 
other  use  of  language,  we  are  led  to  the  same  conclusion. 
The  other  use  of  language,  of  course,  is  to  communi- 
cate ideas.  As  we  have  already  seen,  no  such  thing, 
strictly  speaking,  is  possible.  What  you  do  when  you 
are  said  to  communicate  ideas  is  to  occasion  your 
hearer  or  reader  to  recall  ideas  and  make  combinations 
of  ideas  similar  to  those  ir  your  own  mind.  This  you 
are  able  to  do  by  using  a  sign  or  symbol  with  which  he 
has  associated  the  same  idea  you  have  in  your  mind. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  265 

Evidently,  then,  language  can  not  be  used  to  com- 
municate ideas,  or  rather  to  occasion  the  recalling  of 
ideas,  until  you  have  yourself  associated  a  sign  or 
symbol  with  the  idea  you  wish  to  be  recalled,  and 
until  your  hearer  has  formed  the  same  association. 

Hence  the  absurdity  of  teaching  words  without 
ideas.  Words  are  like  paper  money  ;  their  value  de- 
pends on  what  they  stand  for.  As  3''ou  would  be  none 
the  richer  for  possessing  Confederate  money  to  the 
amount  of  a  million  of  dollars,  so  your  pupils  would 
be  none  the  wiser  for  being  able  to  repeat  book  after 
book  by  heart  unless  the  words  were  the  signs  of 
ideas  in  their  minds.  Words  without  ideas  are  an 
irredeemable  paper  currency. 

It  is  the  practical  recognition  of  this  truth  that  has 
revolutionized  the  best  schools  of  the  country  in  the 
last  quarter  of  a  century.  Pestalozzi  well  called  "  the 
blind  use  of  words  in  matters  of  instruction  the  funda- 
mental error."  He  was  not  the  first  educational  re- 
former who  insisted  on  it.  Montaigne,  Comenius, 
Locke,  Rousseau,  had  all  insisted  on  the  same  idea, 
but  they  were  in  advance  of  their  time ;  the  w^orld  was 
not  ready  to  listen  to  them.  But  in  1806,  after  Prussia 
was  thoroughly  beaten  by  Napoleon  at  the  battle  of 
Jena ;  when  her  capital  city  was  in  the  hands  of  her 


266  LESSONS   IK    PSYCHOLOGY. 

conqueror,  and  she  lay  humiliated  at  his  feet,  it 
occurred  to  some  of  her  leading  men  that  the  regener- 
ation of  the  nation  was  to  be  sought  in  education.  In 
this  way  it  happened  that  the  ideas  of  Pestalozzi  were 
embodied  in  the  schools  of  Germany,  from  which 
country  they  have  gone  into  the  schools  of  every 
civilized  country  in  the  world.* 

In  what  did  the  reform  inaugurated  by  Pestalozzi 
consist?  In  the  substitution  of  the  intelligent  for  the  blind 
use  of  words.  He  reversed  the  educational  engine.f 
Before  his  time,  teachers  expected  their  pupils  to  go 
from  words  to  ideas ;  he  taught  them  to  go  from  ideas 
to  words.  He  brought  out  the  fact  upon  which  I  have 
been  insisting— that  words  are  utterly  powerless  to 
create  ideas ;  that  all  they  can  do  is  to  help  the  pupil 

*It  is  to  me  a  very  interesting  fact  that  Pestalozzi  went  to 
Paris  early  in  this  century  in  order  to  try  to  induce  Napoleon 
to  reform  the  educational  system  of  France  in  accordance 
with  his  ideas.  Napoleon  said  he  had  no  time  to  bother  his 
head  with  questions  of  A,  B,  C.  Prussia  took  the  time,  and 
the  result  was  that  when  Prussia  and  France  met  again  on  the 
field  of  battle  nearly  seventy  years  later,  the  soldiers  of 
Prussia,  educated  in  accordance  with  Pestalozzi's  ideas,  com- 
pletely routed  the  armies  of  France. 

tWhen  I  wrote  this  sentence  I  did  not  know  that  Pesta- 
lozzi had  used  a  similar  illustration  :  "  The  public  common 
school  coach  .  .  .  must  not  simply  be  better  horsed, 
...  it  must  be  turned  round  and  brought  on  an  entirely 
new  road." 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  267 

to  recall  and  combine  ideas  already  formed.  With 
Pestalozzi,  therefore,  and  with  those  who  have  been 
imbued  with  his  theories,  the  important  matter  is 
the  forming  of  clear  and  definite  ideas. 

But  how  can  such  ideas  be  formed  ?  By  compari- 
son, abstraction,  and  generalization,  and  by  combining 
concepts  so  formed  into  complex  concepts.  That  is 
why  Pestalozzian  teachers  have  made  so  much  use  of 
object  lessons.  Realizing  that  the  only  way  the  mind 
can  form  ideas  of  objects  is  by  comparing  them,  then 
abstracting  some  quality,  then  generalizing,  they  have 
given  systematic  courses  of  Object  Lessons  in  order 
that  they  might  develop  clear  and  definite  concepts  of 
objects  in  the  minds  of  their  pupils. 

But  systematic  object  teaching  is  not  the  only 
or  indeed  the  chief  way  of  teaching  in  harmony  with 
this  law  of  the  mind.  Object  teaching  will  be  the 
method  chiefly  employed  by  intelligent  primary 
teachers,  because  the  great  intellectual  need  of  young 
children  is  clear  and  definite  concepts  of  objects.  Since 
all  our  concepts  are  either  simple  or  complex,  and 
since,  of  course,  simple  concepts  must  precede  com- 
plex concepts,  evidently  the  first  step  in  education 
should  consist  in  furnishing  the  mind  with  a  stock  of 
simple  concepts.     And  since  the  mind  of  a  child  is  for 


268  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  most  part  employed  with  objects,  since  his  in- 
terests lead  him  to  direct  his  attention  to  the  external 
world,  plainly  the  thing  to  be  done  is  to  give  him 
simple  concepts  of  objects.  But  whatever  the  subject 
of  thought,  in  order  to  get  its  simple  concepts  the 
mind  must  take  the  same  path,  pursue  the  same  course, 
compare,  abstract,  generalize. 

Whatever  the  nature  of  the  facts  studied,  whether 
objects  that  can  be  brought  into  the  recitation  room, 
or  those  that  are  physically  inaccessible,  or  facts  that 
can  not  be  correctly  described  as  objects,  such  as  the 
facts  of  history,  mental  facts,  mathematical  facts,  the 
intelligent  teacher  will  lead  his  pupils  to  begin  with 
an  examination  and  comparison  of  them,  then  go  on  to 
note  their  resemblances  and  differences,  then  to  make 
generalizations,  unless  he  is  sure  that  they  have  a 
stock  of  perfectly  definite,  simple  concepts,  by  the 
combination  of  which  they  can  form  the  complex  con- 
cepts he  desires.  Such  a  method  of  teaching  has  well 
been  called  the  Objective  Method  or  Objective  Teach- 
ing, since  it  is  an  application  of  the  method  of  teach- 
ing by  Object  Lessons  to  every  dex^artment  of 
instruction. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  269 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

r.     Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  two  preceding  lessons. 

2.  What  are  the  two  uses  of  language  ? 

3.  In  what  sense  can  we  communicate  ideas  ? 

4.  How  can  we  make  indistinct  and  inaccurate  concepts 
distinct  and  accurate  ? 

5.  What  kind  of  particulars  should  we  select,  and  why? 

6.  In  what  did  the  reform  inaugurated  by  Pestalozzi 
consist  ? 

7.  What  is  the  difference  between  object  and  objective 
teaching  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  What  is  the  difference  between  simple  and  complex 
concepts  ? 

2.  Strictly  speaking,  can  we  have  simple  concepts  of 
objects  f 

3.  Mention  as  many  distinct  and  accurate  concepts  that 
a  child  of  six  is  likely  to  have,  as  you  can  think  of. 

4.  What  differences  would  you  expect  to  find  between 
the  concepts  of  a  child  who  has  lived  in  the  country,  and 
those  of  a  child  who  has  lived  in  a  city  ? 

5.  Talk  with  a  child  of  six  and  endeavor  to  ascertain  his 
concept  of  sky,  star,  sun,  moon,  and  other  objects  inaccessible 
to  him,  that  he  hears  mentioned  in  daily  conversation  ? 


Oki^li^r. 


270  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON  XXVII. 

CONCEPTION. 

THE  great  importance  of  the  Objective  Method  of 
teaching  inclines  me  to  think  that  it  will  be  well 
for  us  to  spend  a  little  more  time  in  making  an  eflfort 
to  get  a  thorough  comprehension  of  it — such  a  com- 
prehension as  will  enable  us  to  use  it  from  day  to  day. 
To  this  end,  I  venture  to  quote  further  from  Professor 
S.  S.  Green.  "  The  Objective  Method,"  he  says,  "  is 
that  which  takes  into  account  the  whole  realm  of 
Nature  and  Art  so  far  as  the  child  has  examined  it, 
assumes  as  known  only  what  the  child  knows — not 
what  the  teacher  knows — and  works  from  the  well 
known  to  the  obscurely  known,  and  so  onward  and 
upward  until  the  learner  can  enter  the  fields  of  science 
or  abstract  thought.  It  is  that  which  develops  the 
abstract  from  the  concrete — which  develops  the  idea, 
then  gives  the  teryn.  It  is  that  which  appeals  to  the 
intelligence  of  the  child,  and  that  through  the  senses 
until  clear  and  vivid  concepts  are  formed,  and  then 
uses  these  concepts  as  something  real  and  vital.  It  is 
that  which  follows  Nature's  order — the  thing,  the  con- 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  27 1 

cept,  the  word  ;  so  that  when  this  order  is  reversed — 
the  word,  the  concept,  the  thing — the  chain  of  con- 
nection shall  not  be  broken.  The  word  shall  instantly 
occasion  the  concept,  and  the  concept  shall  be  accom- 
panied with  the  firm  conviction  of  a  corresponding  ex- 
ternal reality.  It  is  that  which  insists  upon  something 
besides  mere  empty  verbal  expressions  in  every  school 
exercise — in  other  words,  expression  and  thought  in 
place  of  expression  and  no  thought. 

"  It  is  that  which  makes  the  school  a  place  where 
the  child  comes  in  contact  with  realities  just  such  as 
appeal  to  his  common  sense  as  when  he  roamed  at 
pleasure  in  the  fields,  and  not  a  place  for  irksome 
idleness.  It  is  that  which  relieves  a  child's  task  only 
by  making  it  intelligible  and  possible,  not  by  taking  the 
burden  from  him.  It  bids  him  examine  for  himself, 
discriminate  for  himself,  and  express  for  himself — 
the  teacher,  the  while,  standing  by  to  give  hints  and 
suggestions,  not  to  relieve  the  labor.  In  short,  it  is 
that  which  addresses  itself  directly  to  the  eye  external 
or  internal,  which  summons  to  its  aid  things  present 
or  things  absent,  things  past  or  things  to  come,  and 
bids  them  yield  the  lessons  which  they  infold — which 
deals  with  actual  existence  and  not  with  empty  dreams 
— a  living  realism  and  not  a  fossil  dogmatism. 


272  LESSONS  IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

"  It  will  aid  any  teacher  in  correcting  dogmatic  ten- 
dencies by  enlivening  his  lessons  and  giving  zest  to 
his  instructions.  He  will  draw  from  the  heavens 
above  and  from  the  earth  beneath,  or  from  the  waters 
under  the  earth,  from  the  world  without  and  the  world 
within.  He  will  not  measure  his  lessons  by  pages,  nor 
progress  by  fluency  of  utterance.  He  will  dwell  in 
living  thought,  surrounded  by  living  thinkers,  leaving 
at  every  point  the  impress  of  an  objective  and  a  sub- 
jective reality.  To  him,  an  exercise  in  geography  will 
not  be  a  stupid  verbatim  recitation  of  descriptive  para- 
graphs, but  a  stretching  out  of  the  mental  vision  to 
see  in  living  picture,  ocean  and  continent,  mountain 
and  valley,  river  and  lake,  not  on  a  level  plain,  but 
rounded  up  to  conform  to  the  curvature  of  a  vast 
globe.  The  description  of  a  prairie  on  fire,  by  the  aid 
of  the  imagination,  will  be  wrought  up  into  a  brilliant 
object  lesson.  A  reading  lesson  descriptive  of  a 
thunder  storm  on  Mt.  Washington  will  be  something 
more  than  a  mere  conformity  to  the  rules  of  the  elocu- 
tionist. It  will  be  accompanied  by  a  concept  wrought 
into  the  child's  mind,  outstripped  in  grandeur  only  by 
the  scene  itself.  The  mind's  eye  will  see  the  old 
mountain  itself  with  its  surroundings  of  gorge  and 
cliff,  of  wood-land  and  barren  rock,  of  deep  ravine  and 


I.ESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  273 

craggy  peak.  It  will  see  the  majestic  thunder  cloud 
moving  up,  with  its  snow-white  summits  resting  on 
wall  as  black  as  midnight  darkness.  The  ear  will 
almost  hear  the  peals  of  muttering  thunder  as  they 
reverberate  from  hill  to  hill," 

This  long  extract  is  worth  all  the  study  we  can 
find  time  to  put  upon  it.  The  thorough  comprehen- 
sion and  the  practical  appreciation  of  it  will  revolu- 
tionize our  methods  of  teaching  as  completely  as  have 
been  the  methods  of  teaching  in  the  best  schools  of 
the  country  in  the  last  twenty-five  years.  But  there 
are  two  or  three  sentences  in  it  that  are  especially 
worthy  of  attention.  Professor  Green  says  that  the 
Objective  Method  appeals  to  the  intelligence  of  the 
child  through  the  se?ises  until  clear  and  vivid  coyicepts 
are  formed,  and  then  uses  these  concepts  as  something 
real  and  vital.     What  does  he  mean? 

I  said  in  the  last  lesson  that  whatever  the  nature 
of  the  facts  studied,  whether  objects  that  can  be 
brought  into  the  recitation  room,  such  as  coal,  glass, 
water,  and  the  like,  or  those  that  are  physically  inac- 
cessible, such  as  are  studied  in  geography  or  astron- 
omy, or  facts  which  can  not  be  correctly  described  as 
objects,  such  as  mental  facts,  historical  facts,  and  the 
like,  the  Objective  Method  of  teaching  leads  the 
18 


274  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

pupil  to  begin  with  an  examination  of  the  facts ;  in- 
stead of  beginning  with  inferences  about  the  facts,  it 
puts  the  pupil  face  to  face  with  the  facts,  and  leads 
him  to  make  his  own  inferences.  How  is  that  possi- 
ble when  we  are  not  dealing  with  objects  in  the  im- 
mediate presence  of  the  pupil  ? 

When  we  are  dealing  with  facts  or  objects  that 
our  pupils  can  not  observe  for  themselves,  we  must 
develop  in  their  minds,  as  nearly  as  we  can,  the  same 
vivid  ideas  that  would  result  from  a  careful  observa- 
tion of  the  reality.  That  is  what  Professor  Green 
means  in  the  sentence  to  which  I  have  called  your 
attention.  A  concept  so  vivid  as  to  be  something 
real  and  vital,  is  a  concept  that  can  be  used  in  form- 
ing complex  concepts  of  things  only  a  little  less  vivid 
than  would  result  from  a  first  hand  observation  of 
the  reality.  He  means  the  same  thing  when  he  says 
that  the  Objective  Method  takes  into  account  the 
whole  realm  of  Nature  and  Art  so  far  as  the  child 
has  examined  it ;  assumes  as  known  only  what  the 
child  knows — not  what  the  teacher  knows.  For  so 
long  as  the  teacher  keeps  within  the  child's  know- 
ledge, he  presents  to  him  simple  concepts  that  he  can 
combine  into  complex  concepts,  which  enable  him 
to  clearly  and  vividly  realize  facts  and  realities  which 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  275 

are  beyond  the  range  of  his  observation,  but  which 
he  can  use  in  comparing,  abstracting,  and  general- 
izing, as  though  he  had  seen  them  for  himself. 

When  Professor  Green  says  that  the  Objective 
Method  addresses  itself  to  the  eye,  external  or  inter- 
nal, he  means  to  call  attention  to  the  fact  that  there 
are  realities  which  can  not  be  cognized  by  the  senses, 
such  as  mental  facts,  but  which,  nevertheless,  are  to 
be  studied  in  the  same  way. 

This   lesson   enables  us  to  see  that  one  of  the 
favorite  doctrines  of  current  pedagogy — first  the  idea, 
then  the  word — is  inaccurate.     In  primary  instruc- 
tion  it  does   indeed  state  with  great   accuracy  the 
proper  method  of  proceeding  for  the  most  part.    But 
even  here  the  teacher  must  sometimes  violate  it.    No 
primary  teacher  can  always  confine  himself  to  objects 
that  have  sometimes  been  within  the  range  of  the 
pupil's  observation.     He  must  sometimes  take  con- 
cepts formed  from  actual  observation  and  build  out 
of  them  concepts  of  realities  that  the  pupil  has  never 
seen.   A  more  accurate  statement  is — first  the  reality, 
then  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality.     I  use 
the  somewhat  indefinite  phrase,  "play  of  the  mind," 
because  a  more  definite  expression  would  not  be  suf- 
ficiently comprehensive.     In  some  cases,  what  you 


276  LESSONC  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

want  from  your  pupils  is  not  primarily  intellectual 
action,  or  action  of  the  knowing  side  of  the  mind  at 
all.  You  wish  to  bring  their  mind  face  to  face  with 
a  certain  reality  in  order  to  excite  the  appropriate 
feelings.  That,  for  instance,  would  be  your  object  in 
teaching  such  a  reading-lesson  as  the  one  described 
by  Professor  Green.  The  same  is  true,  for  the  most 
part,  in  all  teaching  of  literature.  You  wish  to  get 
the  thoughts  and  sentiments  of  the  piece  in  the  minds 
of  your  pupils  in  order  that  they  may  have  the  proper 
feelings — appreciation,  admiration,  and  the  like.  In 
such  cases  in  the  maxim :  First  the  reality,  and  then 
the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality — "  the  play  of 
the  mind  "  means,  for  the  most  part,  a  certain  activity 
of  the  emotional  side  of  the  mind. 

But  even  when  the  play  of  the  mind  you  seek  to 
occasion  is  a  certain  activity  of  the  intellect,  the  kinds 
of  intellectual  activity  that  the  Objective  Method  aims 
at  are  so  different  in  different  circumstances  that  any 
very  definite  term  will  not  accuratel)'-  describe  them. 
The  play  of  the  mind  desired  may  be  the  formation  of 
a  concept — say  the  concept  of  roundness.  In  that 
case  the  reality  consists  of  round  objects.  You  call 
the  attention  of  the  child  to  round  objects  in  order 
that  he  may  fix  his  attention  upon  their  shape,  neg- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  277 

lecting  all  their  other  qualities.  Or  the  play  of  the 
mind  desired  may  be  the  making  of  a  definition — say 
a  definition  of  roundness.  Here  the  reality  is  his  own 
concept  of  roundness  ;  the  play  of  the  mind  desired  is 
the  accurate  description  of  that  concept.  Or  the  play 
of  the  mind  wanted  may  be  a  description  of  a  process — 
say  the  formulation  of  a  rule  in  arithmetic.  Here 
there  are  two  sets  of  realities:  (i)  The  conditions 
stated  in  the  problem.  You  bring  them  clearly  before 
his  mind,  in  order  that  he  may  see  for  himself  the 
path  he  must  take  in  order  to  reach  the  solution.  (2) 
Having  solved  the  problem,  you  want  him  to  describe 
the  process,  and  this  is  the  second  reality.  You  want 
him  to  fix  his  mind  upon  it  so  attentively  that  he  can 
give  an  accurate  description  of  it. 

In  the  following  example  the  play  of  the  mind  de- 
sired is  an  inference  from  a  fact.  Your  class  learns  from 
you  or  a  book — so  far  as  the  Objective  Method  is  con- 
cerned it  makes  no  difference  which — that  the  Con- 
stitution of  the  United  States  forbade  Congress  to  pass 
any  law  prohibiting  the  importation  of  slaves  prior  to 
1808,  and  then  that  Congress  passed  such  laws  in 
1808 — just  as  soon  as  the  Constitution  made  it  pos- 
sible for  them  to  do  it — unanimously.  You  ask  your 
class  what  they  infer  from  that.     They  will  be  likely 


278  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

to  say  that  it  indicates  that  Congress  wanted  to  do  all 
It  could  to  limit  slavery.  Without  saying  whether 
they  are  mistaken  or  not,  you  go  on  and  tell  them  of 
the  penalty  Congress  affixed  to  the  violation  of  the 
law,  and  then  call  their  attention  to  the  fact  that, 
although  the  law  was  constantly  violated  and  every- 
body knew  it,  this  penalty  was  very  rarely  inflicted, 
and  then  ask  what  that  signifies.  Here  the  reality  is 
an  historical  fact,  and  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the 
reality  that  you  are  seeking  to  occasion  is  an  inference 
based  on  the  reality. 

If  we  have  the  clearest  possible  comprehension  of 
the  Objective  Method,  we  may  fail  in  our  attempts  to 
apply  it,  because  we  try  to  bring  the  minds  of  our  pu- 
pils into  contact  with  realities  which  they  can  not 
comprehend— try,  in  other  words,  to  bring  their  minds 
into  contact  with  realities  with  which  they  can  not  be 
brought  into  contact  in  their  state  of  development. 
You  could  not  give  a  blind  boy  an  object  lesson  based 
on  the  sense  of  sight.  No  more  can  you  intelligently 
use  the  Objective  Method  when  the  realities  are  be- 
yond the  range  of  your  pupil's  comprehension.  And 
here  we  see  another  reason  for  making  a  careful  study 
of  our  pupils — that  we  may  learn  what  realities  they 
can  comprehend. 

Further,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  the  Objec- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  279 

live  Method*  is  not  the  best  method  to  use  when  our 
aim  is  to  communicate  information.  But  so  far  as 
you  aim  to  supply  to  the  minds  of  your  pupils  the  con- 
ditions of  development,  so  far,  in  one  word,  as  your 
aim  is  the  strengthening  and  unfolding  of  all  their 
powers,  so  far  you  should  aim  to  use  the  Objective 
xMethod. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Give  a  general  description  of  the  Objective  Method. 

2.  What  does  Professor  Green  mean  by  "  real  and  vital 
concepts? " 

3.  Illustrate  at  length  the  formula — "  first  the  reality,  and 
then  the  play  of  the  mind  about  the  reality." 

4.  For  what  formula  is  it  proposed  as  a  substitue,  and 
why  ? 

5.  Why  may  we  fail  in  our  attempts  to  apply  the  Objec- 
tive Method  ? 

6.  Illustrate  your  answer  from  your  own  experience. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

I.  Is  there  any  contradiction  between  the  quotation  made 
from  Professor  Green  in  this  lesson  and  the  one  in  the  last? 

*It  doubtless  has  not  escaped  the  attention  of  my  careful 
readers  that  the  Objective  Method  is  based  in  part  on  laws  of 
the  mind  which  we  have  not  yet  considered.  Those  laws, 
however,  are  so  generally  known  that  I  thought  it  would 
conduce  to  clearness  to  assume  that  they  would  be  known, 
and  discuss  the  Objective  Method  iu  connection  with  Object 
teaching,  which  is  but  a  single  application  of  it. 


28o  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

LESSON  XXVIII. 

JUDGMENT. 

WE  have  seen  that  our  mental  life  begins  with 
undifferentiated  sensations;  that  the  first  step 
towards  knowledge  consists  in  their  gradual  trans- 
formation into  definite  sensations;  that  while  they  are 
thus  being  made  definite  they  begin  to  be  localized ; 
that  before  they  are  definitely  localized  they  begin  to 
be  gathered  together  in  groups  and  thought  of  as 
qualities  of  objects;  that  in  the  first  stage  of  the  per- 
ception of  objects,  only  their  prominent,  salient  feat- 
ures— those  in  which  small  classes  resemble  each 
other — are  perceived,  and  that,  therefore,  individuals 
are  confused  with  each  other,  not  perceived  as  individ- 
uals; that  the  state  of  mind  that  results  from  the  con- 
fusion of  individuals — the  class  image — gradually 
changes  into  two  very  unlike  things — a  percept  and  a 
concept ;  that,  on  the  one  hand,  it  becomes  a  percept 
through  the  definite  perception  of  differences ;  on  the 
other,  a  concept  through  the  perception  of  resem- 
blances between  individuals  perceived  to  be  individual. 
Through  the  greater  part  of  these  experiences  the 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  ^        28 1 

mind  has  been  active  in  a  way  to  which,  so  far,  we 
have  paid  no  attention.  When  we  study  so  complex 
a  thing  as  the  human  mind,  we  have  to  study  its 
various  phases  or  activities  in  succession ;  but  we 
must  remember  that  what  we  study  successively  ex- 
ists contemporaneously. 

We  shall  get  a  clearer  idea  of  the  activity  of  which 
I  speak  if  we  consider  it  first  in  a  simple  and  very 
common  form.  I  see  a  man  coming  down  the  street. 
At  first  I  am  uncertain  whether  it  is  John  Smith  or 
his  brother.  But  as  I  look  at  him  closely  I  notice  a 
scar  on  his  right  cheek,  just  under  his  eye,  and  then  I 
remember  that  John  Smith  once  received  a  severe 
wound  there.  Immediately  my  mind  passes  from  its 
state  of  doubt  into  a  state  of  certainty — I  say.  That  man 
is  John  Smith. 

Manifestly  such  an  act  of  the  mind  is  rendered  pos- 
sible by  the  laws  of  association.  Through  the  laws  of 
association  I  thought  of  the  name  of  John  Smith  and 
of  his  brother.  But  there  is  a  wide  difference  between 
the  final  act  of  my  mind  and  the  simple  result  of  the 
laws  of  association.  As  long  as  my  mental  state  is 
due  entirely  to  the  laws  of  association,  I  have  a  per- 
cept and  two  images  in  mind — the  percept  of  the  man 
before  me,  and  the  images  of  John  Smith  and  his 


2S»  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

brother;  but  when  I  see  the  scar — when  I  am  no 
longer  in  doubt — the  percept  and  the  image  of  John 
Smith  are  fused  into  one,  and,  expressing  this,  I  say, 
This  man  is  John  Smith.  Such  a  mental  act  is  called 
a  judgment,  and  the  words  in  which  we  express  it  are 
called  a  proposition. 

If  I  had  known  the  man  was  John  Smith  as  soon 
as  I  saw  him,  it  is  evident  that  there  would  have  been 
no  conscious  assertion  expressed,  or  capable  of  being 
expressed,  by  the  words  That  man  is  John  Smith. 
There  was  a  conscious  assertion,  because  there  was,  so 
to  speak,  a  vacillation  on  the  part  of  my  percept.  It 
stood  midway  between  my  image  of  John  Smith  and 
my  image  of  his  brother.  Because  I  was  conscious  of 
this  vacillation,  I  was  conscious  of  my  uncertainty,  or 
rather  in  this  vacillation  my  uncertainty  consisted. 
But  if,  as  soon  as  I  had  seen  John  Smith,  the  image  of 
him  as  seen  before  had  coalesced  or  fused  with  my 
percept,  the  act  would  have  been  so  automatic  that  I 
should  have  not  been  conscious  of  it. 

You  can  prove  the  truth  of  this  by  your  own  ex- 
perience. As  you  went  to  school  this  morning,  did 
you  say  or  think  to  yourself,  that  is  a  tree,  that  is  a 
house,  that  is  a  cow,  as  you  passed  these  several  ob- 
jects?    No,  you  merely  recognized  them — knew  them 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  283 

directly — and  were  conscious  of  no  mental  assertion 
whatever.  But  suppose  the  cow  had  been  wrapped  in 
a  buflfalo  robe,  so  as  to  look  unlike  any  animal  you 
had  ever  seen  before.  At  a  first  glance  you  would  not 
have  recognized  it.  There  would  have  been  the  same 
vacillation  between  your  percept  and  the  competing 
images  that  we  have  already  observed  in  my  ex- 
perience. But  when  you  had  seen  through  the  dis- 
guise, all  but  one  of  the  competing  images  would  have 
vanished ;  you  would  have  performed  a  conscious 
mental  act  that  can  only  be  described  by  a  propo- 
sition— That  is  a  cow. 

We  can  now  see  at  what  point  in  our  mental  life 
this  conscious  act  first  appeared.  We  have  seen  that 
a  complete  act  of  memory  consists  of  retention,  repro- 
duction, recognition,  and  localization,  and  that  mem- 
ory begins  to  develop  before  imagination.  Evidently, 
therefore,  the  mind  recognizes  things  before  it  forms 
images  of  them  when  they  are  absent.  Now  this  con- 
scious act,  which  we  have  called  judgment,  first  ap- 
pears when  there  is  an  object  before  the  mind  of  which 
it  has  a  percept,  and  when  the  mind  is  tmcertain  to  which 
of  two  images  to  refer  it.  If  a  child,  familiar  with 
oranges,  sees  a  lemon  for  the  first  time,  he  at  once 
classes  it  as  an  orange  because  of  their  likeness — there 


284  LBSSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

is  no  conscious  act  of  judgment.  But  if  he  is  familiar 
with  both  and  the  names  of  both,  when  he  sees  an 
orange  at  a  little  distance,  by  the  law  of  association 
by  similarity  he  may  think  of  both  an  orange  and  a 
lemon — the  image  of  both  may  arise  in  his  mind — and 
his  percept  may  vacillate  between  the  two.  When  he 
gets  nearer,  and  notices  the  peculiar  shape  and  color  of 
the  object,  he  says.  That  is  an  orange.  Evidently  such 
a  conscious  act  is  not  possible  until  the  imagination  is 
so  far  developed  that  two  or  more  images  arise  in  the 
mind  in  connection  with  the  same  percept,  which  the 
mind  is  not  able  to  refer  to  either. 

If  we  examine  the  three  judgments  we  have  con- 
sidered— expressed  in  the  propositions,  That  is  John 
Smith,  That  is  a  cow.  That  is  an  orange — we  shall  see 
that  they  consist  in  the  fusion  or  coalescence  of  two 
states  of  consciousness — a  percept  and  an  image  in  the 
first,  a  percept  and  a  concept  in  the  second  and  third. 
We  need  to  note  (i)  that  this  fusion  or  coalescence  is 
the  way  our  thoughts  sometimes  behave  when  we  pass 
from  a  state  of  doubt  to  a  state  of  belief;  (2)  that  al- 
though it  is  thoughts  or  states  of  consciousness  that 
coalesce,  the  belief  does  not  relate  to  states  of  conscious- 
ness, but  to  some  kind  of  reality  :•'     The  reality  may  be 

*Sec  Baldwin's  Psychology,  page  286. 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  285 

the  reality  of  externa!  nature,  as  when  I  say,  That  is 
an  orange.  Or  the  reality  of  literature.  Thousands  of 
books  have  been  written  upon  the  question  of  Ham- 
let's insanity.  If  I  say  he  was  insane,  my  proposition 
expresses  a  belief  about  a  reality  in  literature.  Or  the 
reality  of  mythology.  A  student  of  the  classics,  on 
the  way  to  recitation,  is  running  over  his  lesson  in  his 
mind.  He  asks  himself.  How  did  Minerva  originate? 
He  is  in  doubt.  Suddenly  something  brings  the  for- 
gotten fact  to  his  mind.  He  remembers  that  she 
sprang  from  the  head  of  Jupiter.  His  memory  is  an 
assertion  of  a  reality  in  mythology.  Or  it  may  be  a 
reality  of  meatal  facts.  I  say,  The  concept  man  and 
the  concept  rational  animal  are  one  and  the  same. 
Here  the  reality  asserted  is  a  certain  relation  between 
mental  facts. 

If  we  examine  what  takes  place  in  our  minds  when 
we  perform  the  judgment  expressed  by  the  propo- 
sition, Minerva  sprang  from  the  head  of  Jove,  we  shall 
see  that  there  is  no  such  fusion  or  coalescence  between 
the  thoughts  that  stand  for  the  subject  and  predicate 
as  takes  place  when  we  judge  That  is  John  Smith. 
The  reason  plainly  is  because  of  the  difference  in  the 
things  asserted.  In  the  last  case  we  assert  identity. 
I  see  that  the  individual  before  me  has  all  the  charac- 


286  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY, 

teristics  of  John  Smith,  because  he  ?s  John  Smith.  In 
the  first,  we  make  an  assertion  about  the  origin  oi 
Minerva ;  we  say  not  that  she  is,  but  that  she  sprang 
from,  the  head  of  Jove.  So  when  I  say,  I  dreamed 
last  night,  I  make  a  still  different  assertion — I  assert  a 
different  kind  of  fact.  But  no  matter  what  we  assert, 
we  shall  find,  in  the  period  of  doubt  that  preceded  the 
assertion,  no  fixed  relations  between  the  thoughts  or 
concepts  or  states  of  mind  that  represent  the  various 
parts  of  the  proposition  that  we  finally  assert.  "I 
don't  know  whether  that  is  John  Smith  or  his  brother." 
As  long  as  I  am  in  uncertainty,  my  percept  tends  now 
towards  the  image  of  John  Smith,  now  towards  that 
of  his  brother,  according  to  my  estimate  of  proba- 
bilities. "When  I  pass  from  a  state  of  doubt  to  a  state 
of  certainty,  my  percept  assumes  a  definite  and  fixed 
relation  towards  the  image  of  John  Smith.  "I  don't 
remember  whether  Minerva  sprang  from  the  head  of 
Jupiter  or  the  head  of  Apollo."  Here  again  there  is 
the  same  lack  of  definiteness  and  fixedness  in  the  re- 
lations between  the  thoughts  expressed  by  Minerva, 
sprang  from,  head  of  Jupiter,  head  of  Apollo.  But 
when  I  .say  :  "  I  remember  now — she  sprang  from  the 
head  of  Jupiter,"  this  lack  of  definiteness  disapppears; 
they  are  transformed  into  a  new  whole,  or  rather  the 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOI.OGY.  287 

first  three  are,  each  of  them  sustaining  a  definite  and 
fixed  relation  towards  the  rest — a  relation  which  they 
resume  whenever  I  think  of  them,  unless  my  belief 
changes. 

We  see,  then,  not  only  that  a  judgment  is  that  act 
of  the  mind  that  enables  us  to  use  a  proposition  in- 
telligently, but  we  see  what  the  act  is.  //  is  the  7nental 
assertion  of  some  kind  of  reality — the  transforrnation  of 
separate  units  or  eleme?its  of  thought  into  one  ivhole,  in 
which  each  siistains  definite  and  fixed  relatio7is  towards 
the  rest. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  State  and  illustrate  what  judgment  is. 

2.  When  do  we  make  unconscious  assertions,  and  why? 

3.  Under  what  circumstances  do  these  unconscious 
assertions  become  conscious? 

4.  State  and  illustrate  the  various  kinds  of  reality  to 
which  our  judgments  refer. 

5.  State  and  illustrate  the  difference  (i)  between  the  mere 
association  of  ideas  and  judgment,  (2)  between  doubt  and 
belief. 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  State  the  various  causes  to  which,  in  your  opinion, 
judgments  are  due.  ' 

2.  Show  that  judgments  could  never  have  originated 
from  the  mere  association  of  ideas. 


a88  I,BSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

LESSON  XXIX. 

JUDGMENT. 

SUPPOSE  you  should  have  a  conversation  with  a 
man  from  the  moon,  and  should  explain  to  him 
the  meaning  of  water,  quench,  and  thirst,  without 
showing  him  the  relations  which  these  facts  actually 
bear  to  each  other.  When  he  thinks  of  the  three  at 
the  same  time,  they  have  only  a  mechanical  connection 
in  his  mind — the  same  kind  of  connection  that  exists 
between  the  thought  of  a  Chinaman  and  the  thought 
of  a  steam  engine  when  the  child  thinks  of  the  two  at 
the  same  time  because  he  first  saw  them  together. 
But  when  yoic  think  of  them  together,  you  assert  a  real 
relation  between  the  facts  water  and  thirst — they  are 
no  longer  mechanically  juxtaposed,  bid  parts  of  one 
logical  whole. 

There  is  a  conscious  mental  assertion  only  when 
this  act  of  logical  relating  for  some  reason  becomes  a 
matter  of  attention.  You  say,  That  is  a  cow,  only 
after  you  have  been  in  doubt  as  to  what  animal  you 
are  looking  at,  or  when  you  see  it  in  some  unexpected 
place,  as  in  a  public  park.     Some  Psychologists  con- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  289 

fine  the  term  judgment  to  these  conscious  assertions  of 
the  mind.  Assertions  made  unconsciously  they  refuse 
to  call  judgments,  simply  because  they  are  made  un- 
consciously. But  assuredly  those  Psychologists  take 
the  sounder  position  who  hold  that  whenever  thoughts 
assume  that  fixed  and  definite  relation  we  have  seen 
they  have  in  a  judgment,  whenever  they  become  parts 
of  a  logical  whole,  there  is  an  act  of  judgment,  whether 
the  act  is  conscious  or  not.  The  essence  of  an  act  of 
judgment  coiisists  hi  this  logical  relating  of  thoughts. 
To  refuse  to  call  it  a  judgment  because  it  takes  place 
so  rapidly  and  unobtrusively  as  to  escape  the  eye  of 
consciousness  is  to  use  language  in  a  way  that  does 
not  conduce  to  clearness  of  thinking. 

We  may,  indeed,  properly  enough  mark  the  dis- 
tinction between  them  by  putting  them  into  difi"erent 
classes.  We  may  call  the  judgments  made  uncon- 
sciously, implicit,  and  those  made  consciously,  ex- 
plicit. Evidently  the  mind  made  implicit  judgments 
when  it  contemplated  what  we  have  called  cla.ss 
images.  Evidently,  also,  when  the  consciousness  of 
a  class  image  becomes  the  perception  of  an  indi- 
vidual thing,  the  judgment  is  still  implicit.  And  as 
every  modification  of  a  class  image  in  the  direction  of 
an  individual  is  an  act  of  implicit  judgment,  so  every 
19 


ago  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

modification  of  a  concept  is  an  act  of  explicit  judg- 
ment. Suppose  the  first  concept  that  the  child  makes 
of  a  rose  is  not  of  a  rose  as  a  rose,  but  as  a  plant,  it  is 
the  result  of  an  act  of  judgment — This  is  a  plant. 
When  he  modifies  his  concept  so  as  to  make  it  include 
some  of  the  attributes  of  a  flower,  this  modification  is 
still  the  work  of  a  judgment — This  plant  is  a  flower. 
When  he  modifies  it  still  further  to  make  it  include 
some  of  the  attributes  of  roses,  and  then  of  that  variety 
of  roses  called  La  France,  it  is  still  the  work  of  judg- 
ment— This  flower  is  a  rose,  this  rose  is  a  La  France. 
In  a  word,  the  formation  of  a  concept  and  each  step  in 
its  subsequent  modification  is  the  work  of  the  mind  as 
judgment. 

Explicit  judgments  are  usually  classified  according 
to  the  propositions  used  to  express  them.  "This  man 
is  a  lawyer,"  a  categorical  proposition,  is  said  to  ex- 
press a  categorical  judgment.  "This  man  is  either  a 
lawyer  or  a  doctor,"  a  di.sjunctive  proposition,  is  said 
to  express  a  disjunctive  judgment.  "If  this  man  is  a 
lawyer,  he  is  not  a  doctor,"  a  conditional  proposition, 
is  said  to  express  a  conditional  judgment.  But  we  can 
not  ascertain  the  character  of  a  judgment  by  examin- 
ing the  proposition  used  to  express  it.  A  categorical 
judgment  is  one  in  ivhich  the  predicate  is  asserted  of  the 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  «9I 

subject  absolutely  ayid  uncoyiditionally .  Now,  a  cate- 
gorical proposition  may  be  the  expression  of  that  kind 
of  a  judgment,  and  it  may  not  be.  One  man  says, 
The  S7in  will  rise  to-morrow  mornifig,  and  his  proposi- 
tion expresses  a  categorical  judgment — the  possibility 
even  that  the  sun  will  not  rise  has  scarcely  occurred 
to  him.  An  astronomer  says  the  same  thing,  but 
mentally  qualifies  his  assertion — If  nothing  happens  to 
the  earth  or  the  sun  to  prevent  it.  A  metaphysician 
mentally  qualifies  the  same  assertion  with  the  con- 
dition— If  things  behave  in  the  future  as  they  have  done 
in  the  past*  The  last  two  use  a  categorical  proposi- 
tion to  express  a  conditional  judgment.  So,  likewise, 
a  conditional  proposition  may  be  used  to  express  a 
categorical  judgment.  I  say — If  he  is  a  lawyer,  he  is 
not  a  doctor.  I  mean,  Men  do  not  practice  law  and 
medicine  at  the  same  time,  which  is  a  categorical 
judgment.  A  child  says,  If  I  do  not  cry,  mamma  will 
give  me  candy — meaning  simply  that  she  will  get  the 
candy  if  she  does  not  cry,  and  therefore  her  conditional 
proposition  expresses  a  conditional  judgment. 

When  we  make  a  judgment  about  an  entire  class, 
our  judgment  is  universal ;  when  about  a  part  of  a  class, 
it  is  particular.    All  trees  have  branches,  is  a  proposl- 

*SecLetsonVI. 


292  I,KSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

tion  expressing  a  judgment  about  the  entire  class  of 
trees;  it  is,  therefo--:,  universal.  Some  trees  are  green 
in  winter,  is  a  proposition  expressing  a  judgment 
about  a  part  of  a  class;  it  is,  therefore,  particular. 
Affirmative  judgments  are  those  in  which  some- 
thing is  affirmed ;  negative,  those  in  which  something 
is  denied. 

The  common  opinion  is  that  the  beliefs  (judg- 
ments) of  men — excepting  those  that  we  have  called 
necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs — are  based  on 
processes  of  reasoning.  Nothing  can  be  more  er- 
roneous. The  credulity  of  children  is  proverbial ;  but 
if  we  get  our  facts  at  first  hand,  if  we  study  "  the  living 
learning,  playing  child,"  we  shall  see  that  he  is  quite 
as  remarkable  for  incredulity  as  for  credulity.  The 
explanation  is  simple:  He  tends  to  believe  the  first 
suggestion  that  comes  into  his  mind,  no  matter  from 
what  source;  and  since  his  belief  is  not  the  result  of  any 
rational  process,  he  can  not  be  made  to  disbelieve  it  hi 
any  rational  way.  Hence  it  happens  that  he  is  very 
credulous  in  reference  to  any  matter  about  which  he 
has  no  ideas ;  but  let  the  idea  once  get  possession  of 
his  mind,  and  he  is  quite  as  remarkable  for  incredulity 
as  before  for  credulity.  A  father  was  showing  his 
little  girl — three  years  old — a   cistern,  and  she  was 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  293 

looking  at  it  with  great  interest,  when  she  suddenly 
drew  back,  and  cried  out,  in  a  frightened  tone,  "  Oh, 
papa,  you  are  going  to  put  me  in  there!"  and  no 
amount  of  persuasion  would  induce  her  to  consent  to 
look  at  it  again,  although  the  father  had  never  threat- 
eyied  her  ivith  any  khid  of  physical  punishment ,  and 
there  ivas  absolutely  nothing  in  her  experience  which 
would  serve  as  a  reason  for  her  belief.  The  explana- 
tion is  that  the  idea  occurred  to  her,  and  its  mere 
presence  in  her  mind  was  a  sufficient  cause  for  belief. 
The  same  child  got  in  a  passion  of  fear  because  her 
father  playfully  remarked,  one  day  when  he  had  a 
caller,  that  she  must  stay  with  him  to  keep  the  man 
from  hurting  him.  Not  anticipating  any  such  effect 
from  his  remark,  he  tried  to  soothe  her  by  assuring 
her  that  it  was  not  so-  that  he  was  only  playing — but 
all  to  no  purpose.  She  did  not  believe  it  because  he 
said  it — because  of  her  trust  in  him — and  therefore  she 
wojcld  not  disbelieve  it  ivhen  he  said  it  xvas  not  so. 
Study  your  "elementary  text-book,"  and  you  will  find 
abundant  illustrations  of  this  truth — that  belief  about 
every  thing  that  comes  within  the  range  of  a  child's  ex- 
perience antedates  reavSon  ;  that  what  reason  does,  for 
the  most  part,  in  the  early  years  of  a  child's  life,  is  to 
cause  him  to  abandon  beliefs  that  are  plainly  at  vari- 
ance with  experience. 


294  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

If  we  Study  the  larger  child — the  man  with  a  child's 
mind — an  uneducated  man — we  shall  have  the  same 
truth  forced  upon  us.  If  the  beliefs  of  men  were  due 
to  processes  of  reasoning,  where  they  have  not  rea- 
soned they  would  not  believe.  But  do  we  find  it  so  ? 
Is  it  not  true  that  the  men  who  have  the  most  positive 
opinions  on  the  largest  variety  of  subjects — so  far  as 
they  have  ever  heard  of  them — are  precisely  those  who 
have  the  least  right  to  them  ?  Socrates,  we  remem- 
ber, was  counted  the  wisest  man  in  Athens,  because 
he  alone  resisted  his  natural  tendency  to  believe  in 
the  absence  of  evidence — he  alone  would  not  delude 
himself  with  the  conceit  of  knowledge  without  the 
reality;  and  it  would  scarcely  be  too  much  to  say  that 
the  intellectual  strength  of  men  is  in  inverse  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  things  they  are  absolutely  cer- 
tain of.  If  this  be  true,  it  is  hard  to  overestimate 
the  importance  of  the  work  that  education  should  do 
in  this  direction.  How  to  make  men  believe  what  is 
true,  how  to  keep  them  from  believing  what  is  false, 
how  to  keep  them  from  having  opinions  upon  matters 
in  reference  to  which  their  study  and  investigation,  or 
rather  the  lack  of  both,  give  them  no  right  to  an 
opinion,  is  surely  a  question  of  the  very  greatest  im- 


LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY.  295 

portancc*  Manifestly  the  way  to  answer  it  is  io  bring 
up  the  rational  side  of  the  mind,  to  develop  it  and 
train  it  so  that  it  may  be  strong  enough  to  cope  with 
the  believing — judging — propensities  of  the  mind. 
What  we  can  do  in  this  direction,  therefore,  it  will  be 
proper  for  us  to  discuss  after  we  have  made  a  stud^ 
of  reasoning. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  careful  summary  of  the  preceding  lesson. 

2.  What  is  the  essence  of  an  act  of  judgment  ? 

3.  State  and  illustrate  the  difference  between  explicit 
and  implicit  judgments. 

*I  do  not,  of  course,  mean  to  intimate  that  we  should  have 
no  opinions  about  matters  that  we  have  not  personally  inves- 
tigated. We  take  and  ought  to  take  the  opinion  of  some  men 
about  law,  and  others  about  medicine,  and  others  about  par- 
ticular sciences,  and  so  on.  But  we  should  clearly  realize  the 
difference  between  holding  an  opinion  on  trust  and  holding  it 
as  the  result  of  our  own  investigations.  If  we  do,  we  shall 
see  we  have  no  right  to  an  opinion  at  all — on  trust— where 
there  is  a  decided  difference  of  opinion  among  specialists.  If 
all  I  know  about  the  appearance  of  a  thing  I  have  learned 
from  the  reports  of  two  men,  and  if  these  are  directly  opposed 
to  each  other  on  all  the  essential  points,  then  plainly  I  know 
nothing  about  it.  In  like  manner,  if  I  take  my  conclusions 
from  specialists — as  I  must  to  be  reasonable,  when  I  have  not 
studied  the  matter — then,  when  they  disagree  widely,  there  is 
no  reason  why  I  should  take  the  opinion  of  one  rather  than 
another.  I  have,  therefore,  in  such  a  case,  no  right  to  au 
opinion. 


296  I,BSSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

4.  What  are  the  first  implicit  judgments  ? 

5.  How  are  concepts  successively  modified  so  as  to  in- 
clude a  larger  aud  larger  number  of  attributes  ? 

6.  State  the  difference  between  categorical,  disjunctive 
and  hypothetical  judgments. 

7.  Show  that  v.'e  can  not  tell  the  character  of  a  judgment 
by  examining  the  proposition  used  to  express  it. 

8.  Show  that  children  often  believe  things  because  of 
the  mere  presence  of  ideas  in  their  minds.  ^ 

9.  What  are  necessary  truths  and  necessary  beliefs? 

10.  In  what  did  the  wisdom  of  Socrates  consist? 

11.  What  lesson  does  this  teach  us  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Why  is  it  important  for  us  to  believe  what  is  true  ? 

2.  Have  you  observed  beliefs  in  children  that  you  could 
only  explain  by  the  theory  stated  in  the  text  ? 

3.  Have  you  observed  a  difference  in  children  in  this  re- 
spect? Do  some  appear  more  ready  to  believe  without  reason 
than  others  ? 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  297 


IvESSON  XXX. 

REASONING. 

"^  T  7E  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  children  tend  to  be- 
*  '  lieve  the  first  suggestion  that  comes  into 
their  minds,  no  matter  from  what  source.  Some 
Psychologists  go  much  further  than  this.  H6fi"diug, 
for  instance,  says:  "It  must  be  with  dawning  con- 
sciousness as  with  dream  consciousness — all  that  ofifers 
is  at  first  taken  for  current  coin,"*  since  to  such  a 
consciousness  there  is  no  ground  for  a  distinction  be- 
tween the  world  of  possibility  and  the  world  of  fact 
and  reality.  This  argument  is  that,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  mind,  it  follows  that,  in  the  beginning 
of  its  mental  life,  a  child  must  accept  its  ideas  or  sug- 
gestions as  true.f     But  we  have  here  nothing  to  do 

*Outlines  of  Psychology,  page  131. 

tThat  acute  critic  and  profound  student  of  human  nature, 
Walter  Bagehot,  wrote  a  suggestive  paragraph  on  this  point: 
"In  true  metaphysics,  I  believe  that,  contrary  to  common 
opinion,  unbelief  far  oftener  needs  a  reason  and  requires  an 
effort  than  belief.  Naturallj-,  and  if  man  were  made  according 
to  the  pattern  of  the  logicians,  he  would  say  :  '  When  I  see  a 
valid  argument,  I  will  believe;  and  till  I  see  such  argument, 
I  will  not  believe,'    But,  iu  fact,  every  idea  vividly  before  us 


298  LESSONS  IN  PSYCHOLOGY. 

with  such  a  priori  reasoning.  Our  business  is  to  make 
a  patient  study  of  facts ;  to  carefully  observe  children, 
in  order  that  we  may  learn  whether  there  is  a  tend- 
ency to  believe  as  true  every  suggestion  that  enters 
their  minds ;  and  if  so,  to  what  extent.  But  here,  as 
always,  we  must  guard  against  the  propensity  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  such  an  active  principle  of  human 
nature — the  disposition  to  let  our  beliefs  run  clean  out 
of  sight  of  the  facts  upon  Which  they  are  based,  and 
assert  a  universal  conclusion  upon  the  basis  of  a  few 
observations  of  two  or  three  children.  Knowing  the 
influence  of  feeling  on  belief,  one  would  naturally  sup- 
pose that  children  would  be  more  likely  to  show  the 
tendency  in  reference  to  matters  that  excite  their  feel- 
ings. So  far  as  my  observations  go,  they  tend  to  con- 
firm the  truth  of  this  supposition.  We  should  expect 
also  that  children  of  a  decidedly  emotional  tempera- 
soon  appears  to  lis  to  be  true,  unless  we  keep  our  perceptions 
of  the  arguments  which  prove  it  untrue,  and  voluntarily 
coerce  our  minds  to  remember  its  falsehood.  'All  clear  ideas 
are  true,'  was  for  ages  a  philosophical  maxim  ;  and  though  no 
maxim  can  be  more  unsound,  none  can  be  more  exactly  con- 
formable to  ordinary  human  nature.  The  child  resolutely  ac- 
cepts every  idea  which  passes  through  its  brain  as  true  ;  it  has 
no  distinct  conception  of  an  idea  which  is  strong,  bright,  and 
permanent,  but  which  is  false  too.  The  mere  presentation  of 
an  idea,  unless  we  are  careful  about  it,  or  unless  there  is 
within  some  unusual  resistance,  makes  us  believe  it" 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  299 

meiit  would  be  more  likely  to  show  it  than  those  of  a 
quieter  temperament.  But  plainly  we  have  no  right 
to  au  opinion  on  this  point  until  we  have  observed  a 
large  number  of  children,  or  until  we  have  carefully 
studied  the  results  of  competent  observers. 

But  the  child  very  soon  begins  to  form  judgments 
that  we  can  put  into  quite  a  different  class.  When  he 
sees  a  train  coining,  and  runs  into  the  house  because 
he  is  afraid  of  it,  his  judgment,  The  traiyi  will  hurt  me 
if  I  stay  in  the  yard,  is  the  result  of  the  mere  presence 
of  the  suggestion  in  his  mind.  The  suggestion,  of 
course,  is  due  to  the  a.ssociation  of  ideas ;  the  belief, 
however,  is  due,  as  we  have  just  seen,  to  quite  another 
cause.  But  when  a  child,  who  was  burned  by  his 
soup  yesterday,  refuses  to  touch  it  to-day  because  he 
sees  it  smoking,  his  judgment,  The  soup  will  burn  me 
if  I  put  it  in  my  mouth,  can  not  be  explained  in  the 
same  way.  He  does,  of  course,  think  of  the  possible 
burn  becau.se  of  the  association  of  ideas,  but  he  be- 
lieves it  because  of  a  process  that  might  be  roughly 
described  as  follows :  Yesterday's  soup  smoked  and 
burnt  me:  therefore  to-day's  soup,  ivhich  smokes  also, 
will  burn  me.  He  makes  a  judgment  about  past  ex- 
perinice  the  ground  of  a  judgment  about  future  ex- 
perience;  lie  goes  from  the  known  to  the  unknown.     A 


300  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

little  boy  once  made  the  direct  assertion,  "Snow  is 
sugar;  for  snow  is  white,  and  so  is  sugar."*    Because 
snow  and  sugar  are  both  white,  he  concluded  that  ■ 
they  are  the  same.  f 

Let  us  see  if  we  can  find  any  judgment  to  serve  as 
a  basis  or  reason  for  the  first  one.  Does  the  child 
think  77/1?  train  7vill  /uirt  vie  if  I  stay  in  the  yard  be- 
cause other  trains  have  hurt  me  there  f  or  because  mam- 
ma told  me  it  would  Mirt  vie  if  I  stayed  there  f  No. 
He  does  not  base  the  judgment  on  anything ;  he  as- 
sumes it.  He  does  not  go  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known ;  he  assumes  the  unknown.  His  belief  is  not 
mediate — reached  through  other  beliefs — but  im- 
mediate. Now,  the  process  of  basing  judgments  on 
judgments — of  reaching  beliefs  through  beliefs — is 
called  reasoning.  Reasoning,  then,  is  the  art  of  going 
from  the  known  to  the  unknozun,  of  basing  judgments  on 
judgments,  reaching  beliefs  through  beliefs. 

We  are  reasoning  every  moment  of  our  lives  when 
we  are  awake.  You  awake  in  the  morning  and  glance 
at  the  clock  to  see  what  time  it  is.  You  know  that 
the  object  you  are  looking  at  is  a  clock  by  a  process 
of  reasoning.  It  looks  thus  and  so,  and  therefore  you 
say  it  is  a  clock.     You  say  that  it  is  half-past  six,  and 

*See  HoCding's  Psychology,  page  13a. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  30I 

therefore  you  must  get  up.  You  infer  that  that  is  the 
correct  time,  because  you  have  found  3'our  clock  re- 
liable in  the  past ;  and  when  the  hands  have  been  in 
the  position  lliey  now  are,  5'ou  have  learned  that  it 
was  half-past  six.  You  get  up  and  begin  to  dress — 
every  act  which  you  perform  is  based  on  a  process  of 
reasoning.  There  was  a  time  in  your  life  when  you 
could  not  do  this  or  that  simply  by  willing  to  do  it. 
The  child  of  two  can  not  button  his  dress.  And  when 
he  learns  to  do  it  once,  he  will  be  able  to  do  it  again 
by  an  act  of  reasoning.  He  will  reason  :  I  did  thus 
and  so  yesterday  morning  when  I  buttoned  my  dress, 
and  therefore,  as  I  wish  to  button  it  again,  I  will 
do  the  same  thing  again.  You  go  out  and  sit  down  to 
breakfast.  Why  do  you  do  it?  You  are  reasoning  again. 
You  are  hungry,  and  as  eating  has  satisfied  your 
hunger  in  the  past,  you  think  it  will  do  it  again.  You 
do  not  drink  coflfee,  because  j^ou  drank  it  yesterday 
and  had  a  headache,  and  you  reason  that  the  coffee 
was  the  cause.     Some  one  comes  into  the  room,  and 

you  say,  "Good  morning,  Mr. ,"  naming  a  friend 

of  yours.  How  do  you  know  who  it  is?  By  an  act  of 
reasoning.  Your  friend  looks  thus  and  so,  and  as 
this  gentleman  looks  the  same  way,  you  conclude  that 
he  and  your  friend  are  the  same  person.    Further  than 


302  LESSON5   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

that,  you  know  that  he  is  a  person — a  living,  con- 
scious being  like  yourself — by  an  act  of  reasoning. 
He  acts  like  a  person,  and  therefore  you  think  he  is 
one.  These  examples  give  us  some  idea  of  the  part 
which  reasoning  plays  in  our  mental  life.  It  is  reason- 
ing that  gives  memory  its  value.  Why  is  it  useful  for 
us  to  know  the  past?  As  a  guide  to  the  future.  In- 
asmuch as  the  past  has  been  thus  and  so,  we  reason 
that  the  same  will  be  true  in  the  future ;  and  without 
reason  we  should  have  no  right  to  have  any  opinions 
about  the  future  whatever.  You  are  not,  of  course, 
conscious  of  reasoning  in  such  cases.  You  sa)^  3'ou 
see  the  clock,  see  your  friend,  and  so  on,  when  you 
really  infer  in  each  case.  You  speak  thus  because  you 
are  not  conscious  of  reasoning — because  the  reasoning 
is  implicit,  like  some  of  the  judgments  noted  in  the  last 
lesson. 

Evidently  the  first  reasonings  of  a  child  are  of  this 
implicit  character.  We  have  seen  that  the  last  stage 
in  the  process  of  perception  consists  in  grouping  sensa- 
tions together  and  regarding  them  as  qualities  of  ex- 
ternal objects.  Evidently  this  grouping  is  the  result 
of  reasoning.  A  child  comes  to  expect  that  the  color 
of  an  apple  will  be  followed,  under  certain  circum- 
stances, by  the  taste  and  odor  of  an  apple — comes  to 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  303 

ttiink  of  a  certain  color,  taste,  odor,  etc.,  as  qualities 
of  the  same  object ;  and  these  judgments,  since  they  are 
based  on  other  judgments,  are  products  of  reasoning. 

All  recognition  and  classification  are  products  of 
reasoning.  The  child  first  confuses  different  persons 
with  each  other,  as  we  have  seen ;  implicitly  judges, 
the  man  I  see  nozv  a7id  the  man  I saiv  yesterday  are  the 
same,  because  he  sees  no  differences  between  them. 
This  implicit  judgment  is  the  result  of  implicit  reason- 
ing: 

This  man  looks  thus  and  so; 

Papa  looks  the  same  way ; 

Therefore  this  man  is  papa ^ 

When  his  growing  mind  enables  him  to  see  the  dif- 
ference between  his  father  and  other  men — when  he 
recognizes  his  father  when  he  sees  him — his  act  of 
recognition  is  a  judgment  which  results  from  an  act  of 
implicit  reasoning  identical  in  character  with  the  one 
just  described. 

The  unconscious  classifications  of  objects  that  we 
make  in  perception  are  due  to  the  same  cause.  A 
child  taught  according  to  Rosmini's  method  would 
first  be  able  to  recognize  or  classify  a  given  object  as 

*Cf.  Harris,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Philosophy, 
page  98;  alao  Herbert  Spencer's  Psychology,  Vol.  II,  page  Ii6» 


304  l,:eSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

a  plant,  then  as  a  flower,  then  as  a  rose,  and  last  of  all, 
.  say,  as  a  Marechal  Niel.  If  the  ground  of  his  recog- 
nition were  consciously  before  him,  we  could  describe 
the  movement  of  his  mind  as  follows: 

This  object  has  such  and  such  qualities  (those,  viz., 
of  a  plant,  or  a  flower,  or  a  rose,  or  a  Marechal  Niel, 
according  to  the  judgment) ; 

A  plant  (or  a  flower,  or  a  rose,  or  a  Marechal  Niel) 
has  the  same  qualities ; 

Therefore  this  object  is  a  plant  (or  a  flower,  or  a 
rose,  or  a  Marechal  Niel). 

Suppose,  after  he  has  learned  to  recognize  a  Mare- 
chal Niel  whenever  he  sees  it,  I  show  him  a  Perle  des 
Jardines,  in  order  to  test  the  accuracy  of  his  know- 
ledge, and  ask  him  what  that  is.  He  will  be  likely  to 
say  that  it  is  a  Marechal  Niel — reasoning  in  the  un- 
conscious, implicit  way  already  described.  If  I  ask 
him  how  he  knows  it,  his  reasoning  becomes  con- 
scious; he  answers,  because  it  has  such  and  such 
characteristics — supposing  him  to  be  developed 
enough  to  describe  his  concepts.  This  conscious  act 
of  reasoning  may  be  expressed  in  this  form : 

All  roses  that  have  such  and  such  qualities  are 
Marechal  Niels ; 

This  rose  has  those  qualities; 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  305 

Tlierefore  it  is  a  Marechal  Niel. 

His  conclusion,  of  course,  is  incorrect,  because  one 
of  his  premises  is  wrong. 

In  all  of  these  cases  we  notice  that  the  judgment 
through  which  the  mind  passes  to  a  conclusion  is  a 
judgment  about  some  particular  fact,  so  far  as  it  is 
consciously  in  the  mind  at  all ;  and  if  we  examine  our 
minds  to  see  the  course  they  take  in  the  reasonings  of 
everyday  life,  we  shall  find  that  we  generally  reason 
from  some  particular  fact  to  some  particular  fact.  You 
are  going  to  take  a  train  at  half-past  eleven,  and  you 
must  give  yourself  ten  minutes  to  go  to  the  depot. 
You  look  at  your  watch ;  the  hands  point  fifteen  min- 
utes past  eleven.  Remembering  that  it  was  five  min- 
utes slow  yesterday,  you  hurry  off  at  once.  Why?  Be- 
cause you  believe  it  is  twenty  minutes  past  eleven, 
since  your  watch  was  five  minutes  slow  yesterday. 
Because  your  watch  was  five  minutes  slow  yesterday, 
you  believe  it  is  five  minutes  slow  to-day ;  you  reason 
frojn  a  particular  fact  to  a  partictdar  fact.  As  you  go 
out  of  the  gate  you  notice  threatening  clouds  in  the 
Avest.  You  go  back  and  get  your  umbrella,  as  you 
think  it  is  likely  to  rain.  From  the  particular  judg- 
ment, The  clo2ids  look  thus  and  so,  yo7c  go  directly  to  the 
particular  judgment ,  It  is  likely  to  rain. 
20 


3o6  I.ESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  supppose,  in  either  case,  I  dispute  your  infer- 
ence ;  suppose  I  say  that  it  is  only  fifteen  minutes 
past  eleven,  or  that  it  is  not  likely  to  rain?  You  seek 
to  justify  your  conclusion  ;  you  fix  your  attention  on 
the  considerations  that  seem  to  you  to  prove  it.  You 
say,  I  have  found  by  long  experience  that  my  watch 
is  reliable,  and  since  it  was  five  minutes  slow  yester- 
day, I  know  that  it  is  five  minutes  slow  to-day.  Or, 
you  point  to  such  and  such  characteristics  of  the 
clouds,  and  say,  Clouds  that  look  that  way  threaten 
rain.  In  the  first  case  you  seek  to  justify  your  infer- 
ence from  your  conclusion  by  appealing  to  particu- 
lar facts ;  in  the  second,  by  appealing  to  a  universal 
proposition.  Now  that  illustrates  the  difference  be- 
tween deductive  and  inductive  reasoning.  Inference 
is  always  from  particulars  to  particulars.  But  when 
the  mind  retraces  its  steps  in  order  to  find  the  proof 
of  its  conclusion,  it  may  find  it  either  in  a  general 
proposition,  or  in  particular  propositions.  In  the 
first  case  the  reasoning  is  called  deductive;  in  the 
second,  inductive.  Deductive  and  inductive  reasoning, 
then,  are  not  so  much  tzvo  kinds  of  reasoning  as  two 
modes  of  proof — t'wo  modes  of  exhibiting  to  ourselves 
or  others  the  grounds  of  inferences  already  drawn. 
When  we  prove   a   conclusion  by  a  general  proposi- 


WESSONS   IN    PSYCHOL,OGY.  307 

tion,  the  reasoning  is  called  deductive  ;  when  by  partic- 
ular propositons,  it  is  called  inductive. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  a  priori  reasoning  ? 

2.  By  what  a  priori  reasoning  does  Hoffding  seek  to 
show  that  children  first  hold  all  their  ideas  to  be  true  ? 

3.  Illustrate  the  difference  between  such  judgments  and 
reasoning. 

4.  Illustrate  the  extent  to  which  we  reason. 

5.  What  is  the  difference  between  implicit  and  explicit 
reasoning? 

6.  What  is  the  difference  between  inference  and  proof? 

7.  State  and  define  and  illustrate  the  two  kinds  of  proof 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

I.  A  child  heard  a  servant  say  that  a  certain  musical  in- 
strument was  a  liarp  ;  her  mother  afterwards  told  her  that  it 
was  an  harmonica,  but  she  insisted  that  it  was  a  harp.  Ex- 
plain it. 


308  IvESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


iKSvSON  XXXI. 

REASONING. 

WE  saw  ill  the  last  lesson  that  reasoning  is  going 
from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  and  that 
we  reason  from  known  particular  facts  to  unknown 
particular  facts;  that  the  difference  between  deductive 
and  inductive  reasoning  is  rather  a  difference  in  the 
method  of  proving  conclusions  already  reached  than  a 
difference  in  the  method  of  reaching  them ;  that  when 
we  appeal  to  a  universal  proposition  to  prove  our  con- 
clusion, the  reasoning  is  called  deductive ;  inductive 
when  we  appeal  to  one  or  more  particular  proposi- 
tions. 

But  how  is  it  that  I  am  able  to  find  the  proof  of  a 
fact  in  particular  propositions?  When  you  say,  "I 
know  that  this  is  a  Marechal  Niel  because  I  know  that 
all  the  roses  that  have  the  characteristics  of  this  rose 
are  Marechal  Niels,"  if  I  disagree  with  you  it  is  be- 
cause I  don't  believe  your  premise.  Admitting  your 
premise,  that  all  the  roses  that  have  the  characteristics 
of  this  rose  are  Marechal  Niels,  I  must  admit  your 
conclusion.     But  when   the   child  argues,  "Sugar  is 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  309 

white,  Snow  is  white,  Therefore  snow  is  sugar,"  I  ad- 
mit his  premises,  but  deny  his  conclusion.  But  when 
he -argues,  "This  and  that  and  the  other  unsupported 
bodies  have  fallen,  This  stone  is  an  unsupported  body, 
Therefore  it  will  fall,"  I  admit  the  truth  of  his  con- 
clusion. In  both  cases  he  argues  from  true  particular 
propositions.  We  have  to  inquire  (i)  how  he  came  to 
choose  those  particulars  in  order  to  prove  his  con- 
clusion ;  and  (2)  how  it  happened  that  apparently  the 
same  method  led,  in  one  case,  to  a  false  conclusion ; 
in  the  other,  to  a  true  one. 

I  think  we  shall  see  how  to  answer  the  first  ques- 
tion if  we  ask  ourselves  if  a  child  can  believe  that 
snow  is  sugar  because  the  one  is  white  and  the  other 
sweet.  We  know  that  he  can  not.  We  know  that 
children — human  beings  in  general — reason  from  ob- 
served likenesses  to  imobserved  likenesses ,  but  7iever  from 
differences  to  affrrmative  conclusions.  We  know  that 
the  child  argued  that  snow  is  sugar  because  snow  and 
sugar  resemble  each  other  in  being  white — becaicse  they 
belong  to  the  class  of  white  objects.  The  proof,  in  a 
word,  that  snow  is  sugar  he  found  in  the  fact  thai 
both  are  white.  He  took  one  white  thing — sugar — to 
be  the  type  of  all  white  things — judged  implicitly  that 
all  white  things  are   sugar.     He  argued,  then,  that 


3IO  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

snow  is  sugar  because  it  is  one  of  the  class  of  white 
things,  all  of  which  are  sugar. 

He  selects  the  particular  propositions,  This  un- 
supported object  has  fallen,  That  unsupported  object 
has  fallen,  etc.,  to  prove  that  the  stone  will  fall  if  it  is 
unsupported,  for  the  same  reason.  Can  he  believe 
that  a  stone  will  fall  because  a  robin  flies,  and  a 
geranium  bears  blossoms,  and  a  maple  puts  forth 
leaves  in  spring  time?  Certainly  not.  These  facts 
and  the  one  he  believes  do  not  resemble  each  other — are 
not  members  of  a  class.  He  believes  that  an  unsup- 
ported stone  will  fall,  on  the  ground  that  this  and  that 
and  the  other  body  have  done  so,  because  he  takes 
this,  that,  and  the  other  body  as  types  of  the  class. 
He  has  made  a  class  of  unsupported  bodies,  and  has 
judged  that  those  he  has  observed  are  examples  of  the 
entire  class.  When,  then,  he  reasons  that  the  stone 
will  fall  if  unsupported,  because  this  and  that  and  the 
other  body  have  done  so,  he  really  reasons  that  it  will 
do  so  because  all  unsupported  bodies  rvill  do  so.  We  see, 
then,  that  there  is  no  essential  diflference  between  in- 
ductive and  deductive  reasoning.  When  I  prove  a 
particular  fact  by  other  particular  facts,  I  do  so  be- 
cause they  are  members  of  the  same  class  as  the  one 
a])out  wliich  I  am  trying  to  prove  something,  and  be- 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  3II 

cause  I  have  already,  explicitly  or  implicitly,  reached 
a  conclusion  about  the  entire  class.  When  a  universal 
judgment  is  consciously  appealed  to,  the  reasoning  is 
deductive ;  when  it  is  unconsciously  appealed  to,  it  is 
said  to  be  inductive ;  and  that  is  the  sole  difference 
between  deductive  and  inductive  reasoning.  I  say, 
"I  am  going  to  die  some  time."  You  ask,  "Why?" 
"Because  all  men  are  mortal."  There  I  appeal  con- 
sciously to  a  universal  proposition.  If  I  reply,  "Be- 
cause this  and  that  and  the  other  man  have  died,"  I 
certainly  appeal,  perhaps  imconsciously,  to  a  universal 
proposition,  because  it  is  only  as  this  and  that  and  the 
other  individual  and  I  are  members  of  the  same  cla.ss 
that  what  has  happened  to  them  throws  any  light  on 
what  is  likely  to  happen  to  me. 

We  see,  then,  that  we  appeal  to  c&ridJ^n  particular 
particulars  to  prove  a  fact,  because  they  are  included 
in  a  universal  judgment  that  we  have  made. 

Now,  we  see  why  the  same  kind  of  reasoning  some- 
times leads  to  a  true  conclusion,  and  sometimes  to  one 
that  is  false.  All  inductive  reasoning  is  deductive 
reasoning.  When  the  universal  implied  by  the  par- 
ticulars is  false,  the  conclusion  based  upon  it  will  be 
false.  All  white  things  are  not  sugar.  Hence,  it  is  a 
mistake  to  say  that  snow  is  sugar  because  it  is  white. 


312  LESSONS    IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

All  unsupported  bodies  will  fall.  Hence  I  am  justi- 
fied in  concluding  that  this  stone  will,  because  this  and 
that  and  the  other  bodies  have  done  so  when  I  take 
them  to  be  types  of  the  class. 

The  proof  in  deductive  reasoning  may  always  be 
thrown  into  the  following  form  called  a  syllogism : 

{Major  premise^     All  white  things  are  sugar  ; 

{Minor  premise)     Snow  is  a  white  thing  ; 

{Conclusion)     Therefore,  snow  is  sugar. 

We  see  here  very  plainly  again  that  an  act  of  rea- 
soning may  be  altogether  correct  as  a  process,  and  yet 
lead  to  a  false  conclusion,  because  one  of  the  premises 
is  incorrect.  That  enables  us  to  see  why  able  men 
so  often  differ  with  each  other ;  they  start  from  differ- 
ent premises.  Take  the  great  differences  you  find 
between  men  in  matters  of  politics,  science — every 
department  of  thought — and  you  will  often  find  that 
they  rest  at  bottom  on  the  fact  that  those  who  differ 
started  from  different  major  premises.  A  physicist  or 
physiologist,  for  example,  is  very  likely  to  believe  that 
nothing  can  cause  a  change  in  matter  but  matter.  If 
so,  he  is  almost  certain  to  be  a  materialist,  since  it 
seems  evident  that  the  mind  does  cause  changes  in 
the  body ;  and  if  it  does,  according  to  his  ultimate 
major  premise,  it  must  be  material.     A  peychologist, 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  3x3 

on  the  other  hand,  is  about  equally  certain  to  assume 
that  nothing  can  have  the  characteristics  that  the 
mind  has  without  having  some  of  the  attributes  of  a 
substance.  Accordingly,  he  is  almost  certain  not  to  be 
a  materialist,  because  he  sees  that,  if  mental  facts  are 
merely  phenomena  of  the  brain,  then  the  mind  is  in  no 
sense  a  substance.  One  man  says,  "All  measures 
that  tend  to  promote  home  production  are  benei&cial. 
A  protective  tariff  does  this ;  therefore  a  protective 
tariff  is  beneficial."  Another  says,  "  Undoubtedly 
your  conclusion  is  true  if  your  major  premise  is,  but 
I  deny  your  major  premise.  I  hold  that  what  pro- 
motes the  interests  of  individuals  promotes  the  inter- 
ests of  nations."  Here  we  have  an  argument  leading 
to  a  conclusion  that  directly  contradicts  the  first, 
because  it  starts  from  a  major  premise  that  contradicts 
the  major  premise  of  the  first  argument.  Compare 
the  argument  of  Ex-Speaker  Reed  in  the  North 
American  Review,  January,  1890,  with  the  reply  of 
Senator  Carlisle — the  former  defending  the  rules  of  the 
House  of  Representatives  that  had  just  been  adopted 
by  the  Republican  majority,  the  latter  severely  criti- 
cising them.  Reed  reasons  substantially  as  follows  : 
Whatever  rules  are  necessary  to  enable  the  House  to 
transact  business  are  wise ;    the  rules  adopted  by  the 


314  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

Republicans  are  necessary  to  enable  the  House  to 
transact  business ;  therefore  they  are  wise.  Carlisle, 
on  the  other  hand,  reasons  substantially  as  follows : 
Whatever  rules  enable  the  Speaker  of  the  House  to 
exercise  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  power  are  unwise; 
the  rules  just  adopted  by  the  House  enable  the 
Speaker  to  exercise  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  power ; 
therefore  they  are  unwise. 

If  you  ask  how  it  happens  that  able  men  so  often 
start  from  different  premises,  you  ask  a  difficult  ques- 
tion. One  reason  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  imagination, 
as  we  have  seen,  is  the  sole  audience  chamber  in  which 
Reality  gets  a  hearing.  If  for  any  reason  we  do  not 
image  certain  aspects  or  phases  of  Reality,  they  are 
for  us  as  though  they  did  not  exist.  The  great  major- 
ity of  the  facts  to  which  the  physicist  habitually  gives 
his  attention  are  so  well  explained  by  his  assumption, 
that  it  comes  finally  to  seem  like  an  absolute  certainty 
— precisely  as  we  are  inclined  to  think  it  absolutely 
certain  that  things  will  behave  in  the  future  as  they 
have  done  in  the  past.  When  he  occasionally  thinks 
of  facts  that  seem  to  contradict  his  assumption,  he  re- 
fuses to  believe  them.  That  which  is  absolutely  true 
can  not  be  contradicted,  however  it  may  seem  to  be. 
Sometimes  we  refuse,  more  or  less  consciously,  to  con- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  315 

sider  but  oue  side  of  a  question.  If  we  are  interested 
in  supporting  a  particular  conclusion,  it  often  happens 
that  we  will  not  look  at  the  other  side.  Members  of 
debating  societies  generally  come  to  believe  that  their 
side  is  right,  whatever  they  thought  at  the  start. 
They  are  looking  for  arguments  on  but  one  side,  and 
they  see  no  others.  The  Republicans  in  the  House 
all  voted  for  the  Republican  rules,  and  the  Democrats 
against  them.  A  few  of  both  parties,  perhaps,  voted 
dishonestly,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  great  major- 
ity voted  honestly.  The  Republicans  were  interested 
in  having  their  rules  adopted,  and  looked  for  arguments 
to  justify  it;  the  Democrats  were  interested  in  having 
them  rejected,  and  looked  for  arguments  to  justify  it. 

History  abounds  in  illustrations  of  the  effects  of 
interest  on  belief. 

Every  one  who  has  studied  the  history  of  Calhoun 
knows  that  a  great  change  began  to  take  place  in  his 
opinions  about  the  year  1825.  Before  that  time  he 
had  been  an  advocate  of  a  protective  tariff,  a  national 
bank,  internal  improvements,  a  liberal  interpretation 
of  the  Constitution.  About  1825  his  opinions  on  all 
these  questions  began  to  undergo  a  change,  and  in  a 
few  ycar-^  he  had  completel)'-  wheeled  about.  The 
explanation  is,  that  about  this  time  he  had  begun  to  see 


3l6  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  slavery  was  the  controlling  interest  of  the  South, 
and  that  the  only  constitutional  weapon  with  which  it 
could  be  defended  was  the  doctrine  of  State  rights. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  perception  the  only  facts 
that  he  permitted  himself  to  realize  (imagine)  were 
those  that  supported  his  favorite  doctrine. 

Andrew  Jackson's  history  abounds  in  illustrations 
of  this  kind.  No  man  could  be  his  friend  and  disagree 
with  him.  He  y/as  not  only  a  very  sincere  patriot,  but 
he  was  sure  he  was  right,  and  therefore  that  every- 
body who  disagreed  with  him  was  wrong.  What 
seemed  true  to  him  seemed  so  self-evident  that  he 
could  not  understand  how  a  man  could  honestly  and 
honorably  differ  with  him.  His  feelings  not  only  de- 
termined his  beliefs,  but  gave  them  such  intensity  that 
he  could  not  conceive  that  any  one  could  really  doubt 
them. 

The  history  of  men  like  Alexander  Hamilton  and 
Jefferson  gives  still  different  illustrations  of  this  truth. 
Because  of  natural  differences  between  the  things  they 
liked,  they  inclined  to  start  from  different  premises  in 
their  political  reasonings.  Jefferson  naturally  trusted 
the  people  and  believed  in  their  political  capacity. 
Hamilton  as  naturally  distrusted  them,  and  with  his 
strong  love  of  order  and  stability  it  was  as  natural  for 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  317 

him  to  believe  in  a  strong  government — one  strong 
enough  to  hold  the  people  in  check — as  it  was  for  Jef- 
ferson to  believe  in  a  weak  one,  because  he  did  not 
think  the  people  needed  much  governmental  restraint. 

From  this  point  of  view,  it  is  clear  that  there  are 
two  things  to  be  done  in  the  training  of  the  reasoning 
powers  of  our  pupils:  (i)  To  train  them  to  reason 
correctly  from  given  premises;  and  (2)  to  give  them 
such  training  as  will  diminish,  as  much  as  possible,  the 
influence  of  personal  considerations  in  selecting  the 
premises  upon  which  they  base  their  reasoning — to 
give  them  such  a  love  of  truth  that  it  will  be  able  to 
neutralize  the  influence  of  all  merely  personal  prefer- 
ences and  wishes.  What  we  want  to  believe  has  a 
great  influence  on  what  we  do  believe,  but  it  has  no 
influence  in  determining  what  is  true. 

Calhoun  and  the  South  wanted  to  believe  that 
slavery  was  right,  and  they  did;  but  that  did  not  make 
it  right.  In  order  to  defend  slavery,  they  wanted  to 
believe  that  the  doctrine  of  State  rights  was  true, 
and  they  did ;  but  that  did  not  make  it  true.  But  their 
attempt  to  put  it  in  practice  resulted  in  one  of  the  most 
fearful  civil  wars  of  which  history  gives  us  any  account. 
But  all  that  can  be  done,  it  seems  to  me,  in  the  way  of 
diminishing  the  influence  of  personal  considerations 


31 S  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

in  determining  premises,  is,  in  the  first  place,  to  point 
out  the  great  danger  of  such  influences.  We  have 
considered  examples  of  such  influences  from  history; 
you  need  not  go  to  history  to  find  them  in  abundance. 
Incidents  at  school,  if  you  are  on  the  lookout  for  them, 
will  give  you  ample  opportunity  to  bring  home  to  your 
pupils  the  fact  that  there  is  great  danger  that  they 
will  be  led  to  believe  this  or  that,  not  because  a  candid 
survey  of  all  the  facts  shows  that  it  is  most  probable, 
but  because  they  wish  to  believe  it.  In  the  second 
place,  we  can  set  them  a  good  example.  I  do  not  know 
how  United  States  History  can  bo  taught  profitably 
except  by  constant  reference  to  current  events.  Mr. 
Freeman  well  says  that  "History  is  past  Politics  and 
Politics  present  History;"  and  the  teacher  of  United 
States  History  should  constantly  try  to  illustrate  "past 
Politics"  by  "present  Politics,"  and  show  how  "present 
Politics"  are  the  necessary  results  of  the  Politics  of 
the  past.  But  to  do  this  profitably — to  do  it  without 
exciting  the  prejudices  of  his  pupils — he  must  make 
it  very  evident  that  in  all  the  questions  he  discusses, 
his  supreme  desire  is  to  get  at  the  truth.  And  he 
must  really  have  that  desire.  In  these  and  all  other 
questions  he  should  not  only  allow,  but  encourage,  the 
utmost  freedom  of  discussion.     And  when  his  pupils 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  319 

have  pointed  out  an  error  in  his  reasonings — which 
they  are  sure  to  do  sometimes — he  should  acknowledge 
it  instantly,  and  thus  show  his  supreme  deference  to 
truth. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Show  clearly  the    difference  between  inductive  and 
deductive  reasoning. 

2.  What  is  a  syllogism  ? 

3.  Illustrate  how  it  happens  that  able  men  so  often  differ 
with  each  other. 

4.  Illustrate  the  influence  of  interest  on  belief. 

5.  What  can  you  do  to  train  the  reasoning  powers  of 
your  pupils  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

.  I.     Give  illustrations  from  your  own  observations  of  the 
influence  of  interest  on  belief. 


320  I.ESSONS   IN    I'SYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON  XXXII. 

REASONING. 

T"f  ZEliave  seen  that  the  only  difference  between 
'  '  inductive  and  deductive  reasoning  is  that  the 
one  is  based  on  an  implicit  and  the  other  on  an  ex- 
plicit universal. 

We  will  now  consider  that  kind  of  deductive 
reasoning  that  is  usually  called  induction,  and  to  avoid 
circumlocution  I  will  give  it  the  name  that  it  usually 
bears. 

Induction  very  closely  resembles  generalization. 
General^c"..*  ^n,  you  remember,  is  the  last  of  the  three 
processes  involved  in  the  formation  of  a  concept.  A 
child  directs  his  attention  to  two  or  more  objects  at 
the  same  time  — comparison — and  after  noting  their 
like  and  unlike  qualities,  fixes  his  attention  upon  the 
former — abstraction — and  thinks  of  them  as  the  char- 
acteristics of  a  class — generalization.  But  there  is  no 
going  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  and,  conse- 
quently, no  reasoning  in  the  act  of  generalization. 
When  a  child,  noting  that  two  or  more  objects  re- 
sembling each  other  in  a  number  of  particulars,  and 


IvESBONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  32 1 

all  used  to  sit  in,  thinks  of  the  qualities  in  which  they 
resemble  each  other  as  the  characteristics  of  a  class — 
extends,  in  other  words,  the  name  given  to  them  to  all 
objects  possessing  similar  qualities — he  does  not  make 
an  inference  about  the  objects  he  does  not  see.  He 
does  not  say  that  since  these  chairs  have  this  and  that 
and  the  other  quality,  therefore  all  chairs  have  them — 
that  would  be  an  induction.  But  he  says  that  since 
these  objects  are  alike  in  certain  respects,  I  will  make  a 
class  of  them,  and  if  there  are  any  other  objects  that 
possess  the  same  qualities,  I  will  put  them  in  the  same 
class— call  them  by  the  same  name. 

Of  course  a  child  does  not  definitely  think  any 
such  thoughts.  We  know  that  there  is  a  great  differ. 
ence  between  what  the  mind  really  does  and  v.'hat  it 
is  conscious  of  doing.  And  when  a  child  sees  two  ob- 
jects and  calls  them  dogs — thus  putting  them  in  the 
same  class — and  when  seeing  another  dog,  he  says, 
"  dog" — putting  it  in  the  same  class — it  is  plain  that 
his  mind  has  taken  the  course  I  have  endeavored  to 
describe.  This  is  generalization.  But  there  is  a  wide 
difference  between  generalization — making  a  class  of 
objects — and  induction — concluding  that  since  one  or 
more  members  of  a  class  have  such  and  such  character- 
istics, that  therefore  they  all  have  it ;  or  that  since 
21 


322  tBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

something  is  true  of  one  or  more  members  of  a  class, 
therefore  it  will  be  true  of  all.  In  the  one  case,  we 
are  merely  arranging  objects  into  classes  ;  in  the  other, 
we  reason  from  one  or  more  members  of  the  class  to 
the  entire  class. 

From  this  it  is  evident  that  induction  presupposes 
generalization.  If  in  induction  I  reason  from  one  or 
more  members  of  a  class  to  the  whole  class,  I  must 
have  the  idea  of  the  class  already  formed  in  my  mind. 

But  reasoning,  in  turn,  makes  all  but  the  simplest 
generalizations  possible.  A  child  sees  a  round,  yellow 
object,  takes  hold  of  it,  eats  it,  and  in  this  way  learns 
the  kind  of  sensations  it  produces  through  his  various 
senses.  He  hears  his  mother  call  it  an  orange.  The 
next  day  he  simply  sees  an  orange — does  not  feel  it  or 
taste  it — and  says  "  orange."  What  does  he  mean  ? 
He  means,  if  he  uses  the  word  intelligently,  that  the 
object  would  feel  thus  and  so,  if  he  could  get  hold  of 
it,  and  taste  in  such  and  such  a  way ;  in  other  words, 
he  is  reasoning.  Inasmuch  as  the  object  that  had 
such  and  such  a  color  yesterday  had  such  and  such 
other  qualities,  therefore  this  object,  which  has  a 
similar  color,  will  have  similar  qualities. 

We  have  already  seen  that  inductive  reasoning  as- 
sumes that  certain  individuals  are  types  of  an  entire 
class.     Let  us  consider  this  further. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  323 

When  I  reason  that  all  crows  are  black  because  all 
the  crows  I  have  seen  were  black,  I  assume  that  the 
crows  I  have  seen  are  types  or  examples  of  the  entire 
class.  This  assumption  that  we  can  regard  a  greater 
or  less  number  of  individuals  as  types  of  a  class 
clearly  underlies  a  large  part  of  our  inductions,  and 
we  never  can  be  quite  sure  in  any  case  that  we  have  a 
right  to  make  it.  Of  course,  it  is  more  likely  to  be 
true  when  the  instances  which  we  assume  to  represent 
the  entire  class  are  very  numerous.  But,  no  matter 
how  many  cases  we  have  examined,  it  will  always  be 
possible  that  some  member  of  the  class  that  we  have 
not  seen  may  be  unlike  those  we  have  seen. 

An  hypothesis  is  an  assumption  that  we  make  to 
account  for  facts.  Our  minds  are  of  such  a  nature 
that  we  feel  a  certain  uneasiness  when  we  know  a  fact 
that  we  can  not  explain,  and  therefore  it  is  natural  for 
us  to  try  to  make  some  hypothesis  or  supposition  to 
account  for  any  fact  we  know.  And  since,  of  course, 
we  do  not  make  improbable  suppositions  to  account 
for  facts,  or  rather  since  we  do  not  make  suppositions 
that  seem  to  us  improbable,  we  are  inclined  to  regard 
them  as  true,  so  long  as  they  explain  the  facts.  And 
this  is  another  assumption  upon  which  the  greater 
part,  if  not  all,  of  our  inductions  are  based. 


324  WESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

This  assumption  can  not  be  so  definitely  stated  as 
the  preceding  one.  It  would  not  be  correct  to  state  it 
in  this  form  :  An  hypothesis  which  explains  facts  is 
true.  For  one  great  reason  why  people  dififer  from 
each  other  so  widely  in  their  opinions  is  that  of  two 
hypotheses  that  equally  well  explain  the  facts,  one 
seems  true  to  one,  and  the  other  to  another.  A  dozen 
men  on  a  jury  listen  to  the  same  evidence,  and  part  of 
them  base  one  conclusion  upon  it,  and  the  rest  of  them 
another.  This  is  anly  another  way  of  saying  that 
one  hypothesis  that  explains  the  facts  seems  probable 
to  a  part  of  them,  and  another  to  the  rest  of  them.  I 
do  not  believe  that  a  more  definite  account  of  this  as- 
sumption can  be  given  than  the  following  :  We  are 
naturally  disposed  to  believe  any  hypothesis  that 
does  not  seem  improbable  in  itself,  which  explains 
facts  for  which  we  have,  apart  from  it,  no  explanation. 

Since  we  can  not  rid  our  inductions  of  an  element 
of  uncertainty,  no  matter  how  cautiously  and  care- 
fully we  frame  them,  it  is  evident  that,  unless  we  make 
them  as  cautiously  and  as  carefully  as  we  can,  they 
are  likely  to  have  very  little  value.  "  I  do  not  like 
Jews,"  says  one.  Get  him  to  tell  you  why,  and  you 
will  find  that  the  reason  is  that  he  has  known  two  or 
three  Jews  who  were  not  pleasant  persons.     "  It  does 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  325 

not  do  boys  any  good  to  go  to  college,"  says  another. 
"John  Jones  went  to  college,  and  he  does  not  know 
any  more  than  Will  Smith  does" — as  though  an  ex- 
amination of  the  case  of  John  Jones  entitled  one  to 
an  opinion  of  the  whole  class  of  students  that  attend 
college.  "  I  do  not  like  people  with  little  noses,"  says 
a  third;  "they  are  always  mean  and  stingy."  The 
foundation  for  which  is  that  he  has  seen  one  or  two 
people  with  little  noses  who  were  stingy.  Doubtless 
the  great  majority  of  the  popular  superstitions,  "  Thir- 
teen is  an  unlucky  number,"  "  Bad  luck  to  begin  any- 
thing on  Friday,"  etc.,  originated  the  same  way.  The 
best  thing  we  can  do  to  guard  our  pupils  against 
such  inductions  is  so  constantly  to  call  their  attention 
to  the  necessity  of  founding  t!::ir  beliefs  upon  a  wide 
basis  of  facts  that  they  may  get  a  realization  of  the 
danger  of  doing  anything  else. 

Of  course,  the  first  condition  of  doing  this  success- 
fully is  that  you  have  a  vivid  appreciation  of  the 
dangers  of  such  inductions  yourself.  And  if  you 
have  such  an  appreciation,  by  encouraging  them  to 
express  their  opinions  upon  the  various  matters  that 
come  up,  you  can  do  something  to  develop  such  an 
appreciation  in  lliem.  And  when  you  are  trying  to 
develop  it,  1    't  of  all  in  your  own  mind,  and  then  in 


326  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

the  minds  of  your  pupils,  remember  that  the  greatest 
foe  of  progress  is  Ignorance,  and  that  the  strongest 
friends  of  Ignorance  are  the  Dogmatism  and  Prejudice 
to  which  careless  and  slovenly  reasoning  naturally 
give  birth. 

We  have  seen  that  when  we  appeal  to  a  general 
proposition  to  prove  our  conclusion,  the  reasoning  is 
called  deductive ;  when  we  appeal  to  particular  facts, 
inductive.  When  we  try  to  prove  one  fact  by  appeal- 
ing to  another  which  is  only  valid  to  prove  the  one 
fact  we  have  inferred,  so  far  as  it  has  any  validity,  we 
are  said  to  reason  by  analogy. 

Argument  from  analogy  is  defined  by  Jevons  as 
"  direct  inductive  inference  from  one  fact  to  any 
similar  fact."  The  same  author  gives  the  following 
example :  "  Thus  the  planet  Mars  possesses  an  at- 
mosphere, with  clouds  and  mist  closely  resembling  our 
own ;  it  has  seas,  distinguished  from  the  land  by  a 
greenish  color,  and  polar  regions  covered  with  snow. 
Tlie  red  color  of  the  planet  seems  to  be  due  to  the 
atmosphere,  like  the  red  color  of  our  sunrises  and 
sunsets.  So  much  is  similar  in  the  surface  of  Mars 
and  the  surface  of  the  earth,  that  we  readily  argue 
there  must  be  inhabitants  there  as  here.  All  that  we 
can  certainly  say,  however,  is  that  if  the  circumstances 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  527 

be  really  similar,  and  similar  germs  of  life  have  been 
created  there  as  here,  *  there  must  be  inhabitants.  The 
fact  that  many  circumstances  are  similar,  increases 
the  probability.  But  between  the  earth  and  the  sun, 
the  analogy  is  of  a  much  fainter  character.  We  speak, 
indeed,  of  the  sun's  atmosphere  being  subject  to 
storms  and  filled  with  clouds,  but  these  clouds  are 
heated  probably  beyond  the  temperature  of  our  hot- 
test furnaces  ;  if  they  produce  rain,  it  must  resemble 
melted  iron ;  and  the  sun-spots  are  perturbations  of  so 
tremendous  a  size  and  character  that  the  earth,  to- 
gether with  half  a  dozen  of  the  other  planets,  could 
readily  be  swallowed  up  in  one  of  them.  It  is  plain, 
then,  that  there  is  little  or  no  analogy  between  the  sun 
and  the  earth,  and  we  can,  therefore,  with  diflftculty 
form  a  conception  of  anything  going  on  in  a  sun  or 
a  star." 

This  kind  of  reasoning  is  more  uncertain  than  in- 
ductive reasoning.  Jevons  speaks  of  the  similarity 
between  so  many  circumstances  in  the  case  of  Mars 
and  the  earth  as  increasing  the  probability  that  the 
former  is  inhabited  because  the  latter  is,  and  at  the 
same  time  says  that  "  all  we  can  certainly  say  is,  that 
if  the  circumstances  be  really  similar,  and  similar  germs 

*  Italics  are  mine. 


328  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

of  life  have  been  created  there  as  here,  there  must  be 
inhabitants."  Need  I  say  that  in  the  very  nature  of 
the  case  we  neither  know  nor  can  know  anything  about 
whether  "  similar  germs  of  life  have  been  created 
there  as  here,"  and  that  our  knowledge  of  the  extent 
to  which  circumstances  are  similar  is  so  limited  that 
any  talk  of  probability  is  absolutely  without  founda- 
tion ?  All  that  the  facts  warrant  us  in  saying  is,  that 
for  aught  we  know  Mars  may  be  inhabited,  but  he 
who  claims  to  be  able  to  say  that  it  probably  is,  lays 
claim  to  a  larger  amount  of  knowledge  than  falls  to 
the  lot  of  mortals. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  is  the  difference  between  induction  and  gener- 
alization ? 

2.  Show  that  induction  presupposes  generalization. 

3.  Show  that  reasoning  makes  all  but  the  simplest  gen- 
eralizations possible. 

4.  State  and  illustrate  the  two  assumptions  that  underlie 
nearly  all  our  inductions. 

5.  Define  and  illustrate  argument  from  analogy. 

6.  What  seems  to  you  its  logical  value  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

I.     Give  illustrations  from  your  own  experience  of  over 
ha»ty  induotionr 


LKSSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  329 


LESSON  XXXIII. 

THE   PRIMARY    INTELLECTUAL   FUNCTIONS. 

\yl  7E  have  studied  sensation,  perception,  memory, 
^  ^  imagination,  conception,  judgment,  and  reason- 
ing— all  modes  of  intellectual  activity.  If  we  pass 
them  in  rapid  review  before  us,  we  shall  see  that  in  all 
of  them  the  mind  is  discriminating  or  noting  differ- 
ences, and  assimilating  or  noting  resemblances. 

What  is  it  to  know  a  sensation?  It  is  to  discrimi- 
nate or  mentally  separate  it  from  all  other  sensations. 
A  child  has  many  sensations  which  it  does  not  know; 
many  sensations  which  it  confuses  with  other  sensa- 
tions. But  a  sensation  confused  with  other  sensations 
is  a  sensation  put  in  the  wrong  class — precisely  as,  if 
one  were  sorting  out  ribbons  of  different  colors,  the 
confusing  of  purple  with  blue  would  lead  to  the  mix- 
ing of  these  two  kinds  of  ribbons. 

So  likewise  in  perception.  The  first  act  of  the 
mind  in  perceiving  is  to  separate  mentally  the  thing 
perceived  from  everything  else.  You  remember  that, 
in  the  lessons  on  Attention,  we  saw  that  what  we  per- 
ceive depends  upon  what  we  attend  to.     The  mind  in 


330  I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

attention  simply  singles  out  the  thing  attended  to 
from  everything  else,  and  that  is  discrimination.  A 
dog  may  stand  before  you,  but  if,  through  pre-occupa- 
tion  or  from  any  other  cause,  you  do  not  discriminate 
it  from  the  objects  about  it,  you  do  not  know  it.  But 
discrimination  is  not  all  that  is  essential  to  knowledge. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  when  we  discriminate  we  usually 
know,  because  assimilation,  or  the  act  of  putting  a 
thing  discriminated  into  a  class,  usually  follows  so 
closely  upon  the  act  of  discrimination  that  the  two 
seem  to  be  identical.  But  they  are  not.  To  pick  a 
piece  of  blue  ribbon  out  of  a  scrap  bag  is  one  thing; 
to  put  it  in  a  box  with  other  blue  ribbons  is  an  en- 
tirely different  thing.  A  child,  seeing  a  dog,  may  dis- 
criminate it  from  all  other  objects,  but  until  he  per- 
ceives its  resemblance  to  something  else,  until  he  as- 
similates it,  he  does  not  know  it. 

So  likewise  with  memory.  What  is  it  to  have  a 
perfect  recollection  of  any  event?  It  is  to  have  a 
definite  knowledge  both  of  the  event  and  of  the  time 
when  it  happened.  If  the  event  is  indistinct,  it  is  not 
perfectly  remembered,  and  its  indistinctness  is  due  to 
imperfect  discrimination  and  assimilation.  If  we  are 
in  any  doubt  as  to  the  time,  it  is  because  we  do  not 
perfectly  discriminate  it  from  other  times,  and  do  not 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  33 1 

perfectly  assimilate  it  to  other  times.  The  event  hap- 
pened, say,  at  eleven  o'clock  yesterday,  but  I  am  un- 
certain whether  it  was  eleven  or  twelve,  or  whether  it 
happened  yesterday  or  the  day  before — that  is,  I  do 
not  discriminate  the  hour  and  the  day  when  it  hap- 
pened from  all  others. 

Possibly  you  think  that  in  this  latter  case  there  is 
no  assimilation.  Inasmuch  as  in  any  one  place  there 
is  but  one  point  of  time  known  as  eleven  o'clock, 
April  26,  1890,  the  question  may  be  asked  as  to  how 
it  is  possible  for  assimilation  of  such  a  fact  to  take 
place?  The  question  can  be  readily  answered  if  we 
bear  in  mind  that  the  state  of  mind  corresponding  to 
the  fact  "eleven  o'clock  yesterday"  is  a  complex  con- 
cept. Before  a  child  can  know  what  is  meant  by 
"eleven  o'clock  yesterday,"  he  must  know  the  mean- 
ing of  "yesterday  "  and  "eleven  o'clock,"  and  this  is 
possible  only  by  discrimination  and  assimilation.  But 
with  the  concepts  of  these  two  facts  as  elements,  all 
that  is  necessary  to  the  formation  of  the  complex  con- 
cept expressed  by  the  phrase  "  eleven  o'clock  yester- 
day"  is  a  synthesis  of  the  two  through  the  exercise  of 
the  constructive  imagination.  The  product  of  con- 
structive imagination  is,  of  course,  an  image;  but  as 
we  can  take  the  image  of  red  color  to  illustrate  the 


332  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

concept  color,  so  we  can  take  any  image  to  illustrate 
the  corresponding  concept. 

We  have  seen  that  the  three  processes  involved  in 
conception  are  comparison — putting  the  attention  on 
two  or  more  objects  at  the  same  time,  discriminating  them 
from  all  other  objects;  abstraction — withdrawing  the 
attention  from  their  unlike  qualities  and  fixing  it  upon 
their  resemblances,  assimilating  them ;  and  generalii:a- 
tion — extending  their  name  to  all  other  objects  having 
similar  qualities — a  further  act  of  assimilation. 

In  order  to  judge,  we  must  know  the  subject  and 
predicate;  and  to  do  this,  we  must  discriminate  and 
assimilate  them.  I  can  not  judge  that  oak  trees  lose 
their  leaves  in  autumn  unless  I  know  what  oak  trees 
are,  and  what  is  meant  by  "losing  their  leaves  in 
autumn."  But  to  know  oak  trees,  I  must  discrimi- 
nate them  from  all  other  trees,  and  assimilate  them  to 
each  other.  The  state  of  mind  corresponding  to  the 
fact  "losing  their  leaves  in  autumn"  is  a  complex  con- 
cept; and  to  know  its  elements,  as  we  have  seen,  we 
must  assimilate  and  discriminate  them. 

The  same  is  true  of  reasoning.  When  I  say  that 
John  is  a  mortal,  since  he  is  a  man  and  all  men  are 
mortal,  my  conclusion  is  the  result  of  two  acts  of  as- 
similation— the  assimilation  of  John  to  the  class  men, 
and  of  these  to  the  class  mortals. 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  333 

When  I  say  that,  since  this  and  that  and  the  other 
unsupported  body  have  fallen,  therefore  all  unsup- 
ported bodies  will,  I  have  perceived,  in  the  first  place, 
the  resemblance  between  the  unsupported  bodies  I 
have  seen — I  have  assimilated  them;  and,  in  the 
second  place,  I  have  assimilated  them  to  all  other  un- 
supported bodies. 

Since  all  knowing  consists  to  so  great  an  extent  of 
discrimination  and  assimilation,  how  can  there  be  so 
many  diflferent  kinds  of  knowing?  Because  there  are 
so  many  different  facts  to  be  discriminated  and  assimi- 
lated. The  discrimination  and  assimilation  oi  single 
sensations  leads  to  the  knowledge  of  sensations;  of 
groups  of  sensations  to  the  perception  of  objects  which 
result  in  percepts;  oi percepts, io  concepts;  oi concepts, 
to  judgments ;  oiJudgme7its,  to  conclusions. 

But  does  not  this  answer  leave  the  really  difficult 
point  unexplained?  Granting  that  there  are  diflferent 
kinds  of  facts  to  be  discriminated  and  assimilated,  and 
it  is  easy  to  see  that  they  would  issue  in  diflferent  pro- 
ducts. But  how  is  it  that  there  are  different  kinds  of 
facts?    That  is  the  really  difficult  question. 

It  may  seem  that  to  ask  that  question  is  like  ask- 
ing why  there  are  so  many  different  kinds  of  facts  to 
be  known  in  the  universe.     But  it  is  not.    Granted 


334  LESSON.S    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

that  there  are  things  without,  how  do  we  come  to 
know  them?  How  does  that  which  is  there  somehow 
get  to  be  represented  here  in  my  mind?  Granted  also 
that  I  have  lived — have  laughed  and  wept  and  hoped 
and  feared — have  played  a  part  as  a  conscious  being 
in  this  strange  world.  But  the  past  is  gone,  and  with 
it  its  experiences.  How  is  it  that  I  am  able  to  recol- 
lect them?  How  is  it  that  that  which  was  there  and 
then  somehow  gets  to  be  represented  here  and  now  in 
my  mind?  Granted  also  that  there  are  real  relations 
existing  between  real  things,  how  am  I  able  to  assert 
them?  That  which  gets  into  my  mind  is  mental.  How 
is  the  merely  mental  transformed  into  the  non-mental, 
the  subjective  into  the  objective? 

These,  you  know,  are  some  of  the  questions  we 
have  been  trying  to  answer,  and  they  help  us  to  realize 
what  we  are  constantly  in  danger  of  forgetting— that 
our  science,  instead  of  having  merely  to  discover  the 
laws  that  govern  ready-made  facts,  is  to  a  large  extent 
a  science  of  processes — a  science  that  has  to  discover 
how  its  facts  come  to  be. 

How,  then,  do  the  facts  that  we  know  as  sensations 
come  to  exist?  In  the  way  already  described — char- 
acterless, indefinite,  and  undifferentiated  experiences, 
but  with  latent  likenesses  and  differences,  begin  to  exist. 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  335 

How  these  were  transformed  into  definite  sensations 
has  already  been  explained.  Here  we  have  only  to 
note  that  this  transformation  was  the  mind's  own 
work ;  that  what  we  call  a  sensation  is,  in  a  sense,  the 
product  of  the  mind's  own  activity — that  this  activity 
converted  latent  likenesses  and  differences  into  a  con- 
sciousness of  likeness  and  difference  between  definite 
sensations. 

How  do  percepts  come  to  exist?  By  the  mind's 
own  activity.  Sensations  existing  with  certain  spatial 
meanings  come  to  be  known  as  having  those  meanings. 
Through  the  native  power  of  the  mind  to  interpret 
the  brogue  of  its  sensations,  to  understand  the  mean- 
ing of  their  local  signs,  the  mind  arranges  its  sensations 
in  space,  and  the  result  is  a  percept. 

How  do  recollections  of  pa.st  experiences  come  to 
exist?  Again  by  the  mind's  own  activity.  Our  ex- 
periences succeed  each  other  in  time.  That  we  know 
that  they  do  results  from  the  activity  of  our  minds — 
the  mind  retrojects  some  of  its  images  into  the  past 
through  its  interpretation  of  their  temporal  signs,  pre- 
cisely as  it  projects  some  of  its  sensations  into  space 
through  its  interpretation  of  their  local  signs. 

How  do  judgments  come  to  exist?  Through  the 
mind's  power  to  apprehend  the  various  relations  of 


336  LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

reality.  Day  precedes  night.  The  mind  apprehends 
it,  and  the  result  is  a  judgment.  Hamilton  origi7iated 
the  fi7ia7icial policy  of  the  Federalist  party.  The  mind 
apprehends  it,  and  the  result  is  a  judgment.  Judg- 
ments are  the  products  of  the  mind's  power  to  ap- 
prehend the  relations  of  reality. 

In  each  of  these  cases  we  have  to  note  that  it  was 
no  mere  dififerentiation  and  classification  of  readj^- 
made  facts  that  brought  about  the  result.  The  mind 
makes  its  sensations,  makes  its  percepts,  makes  its 
concepts,  makes  its  judgments,  and  so  makes  possible 
their  discrimination  and  assimilation. 

We  know  also  the  condition  of  these  various  ac- 
tivities. But  it  is  only  a  condition.  The  activity  of 
attention  is  no  more  to  be  confused  with  what  results 
from  it  than  light  is  to  be  confused  with  seeing.  The 
best  eye  can  not  see  in  the  dark,  and  the  finest  mind 
can  not  elaborate  its  products  without  attention ;  but 
light  is  not  seeing,  and  attention  is  not  \.\\&  fact-making 
activity  of  the  mind. 

We  see  also  in  what  this  activity  consists.  It  is  a 
relating  activity — in  sensation,  bringing  characterless 
experiences  into  relations  of  likeness  and  difference; 
in  perception,  combining  sensations  into  relations  of 
space;  in  memory,  combining  the  various  elements  of 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  337 

experience  into  relations  of  time ;  in  conception,  com- 
bining percepts  into  relations  of  likeness ;  in  judg- 
ment, combining  percepts  and  concepts  into  the 
various  relations  of  reality  apprehended  by  the  mind. 
If,  then,  we  adopt  the  name  usually  applied  to  this 
activity  and  call  it  apperception,  we  see  that  apper- 
ception is  that  combining  activity  of  the  iniiid  that  brings 
order  and  harmony  into  our  mental  life  by  transforming 
the  consciousness  of  related  facts  "  into  the  co7iscio7is7iess 
of  relations y^"- 

Apperception,  then — of  which,  indeed,  discrimina- 
tion and  assimilation  are  modes — is  the  most  funda- 
mental form  of  mental  activity.  It  makes  sensations, 
and  then,  in  the  form  of  discrimination,  separates 
those  that  are  unlike  and  assimilates  those  that  are 
alike;  it  discovers  the  space  relations  of  sensations, 
transforms  them  into  attributes  of  bodies,  and  then 
discriminates  the  objects  so  perceived  that  are  unlike, 
and  assimilates  those  that  are  alike ;  it  discerns  the 
time  relations  of  mental  facts,  and  transforms  a  suc- 
cession of  experiences  into  a  consciousness  of  succes- 
sion ;  it  combines  percepts  into  concepts,  percepts  and 
concepts  into  judgments,  judgments  into  conclusions. 

*  See  Baldwin's  Psychology,  page  65. 


22 


338  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Define  and  illustrate  discrimination  and  assimilation. 

2.  Analyze  sensation,  perception,  memory,  conception, 
judgment,  and  reasoning,  in  order  to  show  that  in  all  of  them 
discrimination  and  assimilation  take  place. 

3.  Psychology  is  to  a  large  extent  a  science  of  processes 
— what  is  the  meaning  of  that  ? 

4.  How  does  it  happen  that  discrimination  and  assimila- 
tion issue  in  such  diflferent  products  ? 

5.  Define  apperception. 

6.  What  does  apperception  do  in  sensation,  perception, 
memory,  constructive  imagination,  conception,  judgment,  and 
reasoning  ? 

7.  What  is  the  condition  of  apperception  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  A  child  saw  a  donkey  and  called  it  a  horse;  a  rabbit, 
and  called  it  a  cat;  a  fox,  and  called  it  a  dog.    Why  ? 

2.  Report  similar  facts  from  your  own  observation. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  339 

LESSON   XXXIV. 

THE    PRIMARY    INTELLECTUAL   FUNCTIONS. 

TN  the  last  lesson  we  saw  that  perception,  memory, 
-■'  imagination,  conception,  judging,  and  reasoning 
are  processes  of  discrimination  and  assimilation,  exer- 
cised on  different  materials,  and  that  these  different 
materials  are  themselves  products  of  a  more  funda- 
mental mode  of  mental  activity,  of  which  discrimination 
and  assimilation  are  forms. 

This  being  so,  the  question,  How  can  I  impart 
knowledge  most  clearly?  may  be  put  in  another  form. 
From  the  point  of  view  we  have  now  reached,  we  are 
able  to  see  that  the  question  is.  How  can  I  supply  the 
conditions  of  apperception  ?  or,  to  put  it  more  definitely, 
though  not  so  accurately.  How  can  I  enable  my 
pupils  to  discriminate  and  assimilate  most  perfectly? 

This  activity  of  apperception  in  any  of  its  forms 
consists  in  the  establishment  of  relation.  If,  then,  a  new 
fact  is  to  be  apperceived,  it  tmist  be  brought  into  relations 
with  old  facts.  The  unknown  must  be  related  to  the 
known.  Now,  in  order  that  this  may  take  place — in 
order  that  this  relation  may  be  established — it  is  not 


340  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

enough  that  the  mind  have  in  the  storehouse  of  mem- 
ory concepts  to  which  the  known  may  be  related; 
these  concepts  must  be  brought  out;  and  the  more 
completely  the  whole  of  one's  past  experience  is  ran- 
sacked for  related  concepts,  the  more  perfect  will  be 
the  apperception  or  assimilation. 

We  can  easily  illustrate  the  truth  of  this  by  ap- 
pealing to  our  own  experiences.  Sometimes  we  read 
books  to  "inform  our  minds/'  or  "to  get  general  in- 
formation;" sometimes  to  get  definite  answers  to 
definite  questions.  Which  do  you  find  the  more 
profitable  reading?  The  last,  I  am  sure;  and  the 
reason  is  that  your  whole  knowledge  of  the  subject  to 
which  your  question  relates  is  brought  to  bear  on 
everything  you  find  related  to  it.  Your  "  apperceiving 
conceptions  .  .  .  stand,  like  armed  soldiers,  with- 
in the  strongholds  of  consciousness,  ready  to  pounce 
upon"  everything  they  can  bring  within  their  grasp. 
Read  the  same  book  with  no  question  in  mind,  and 
those  apperceiving  conceptions  are  like  soldiers  asleep, 
who  let  their  enemy  go  by  them  undisturbed.  You 
get  illustrations  of  the  same  truth  when  you  re-read  a 
book  after  a  considerable  interval.  If  the  book  is 
thoughtful — worth  re-reading — you  are  almost  sure  to 
find  some   suggestive    or    striking   observation  that 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  34I 

escaped  your  notice  the  first  lime.  I  have  read 
Bagehot's  " Physics  aud  Politics"  many  times,  but  I 
do  not  remember  that  my  attention  was  ever  attracted 
to  the  paragraph  quoted  on  page  297  until  I  read  it  a 
couple  of  weeks  ago.  When  I  read  it  before,  I  had 
"no  receptivity"  for  it,  either  because  I  had  no  related 
concepts  in  my  mind,  or  because  they  were  in  the 
background  of  consciousness,  and  therefore,  like 
soldiers  asleep,  unserviceable.  But  when  I  read  it  two 
weeks  ago,  my  attention  had  been  attracted  to  the 
subject  of  the  paragraph  by  my  own  observations,  nnd 
so  my  mind  pounced  upon  it  with  great  eagerness. 

When  you  select  a  subject  for  an  essay  that  in- 
terests you  very  much  three  or  four  months  before  the 
time  you  expect  to  write  it,  your  experience  gives  you 
illustrations  of  the  same  truth.  You  scarcely  read  a 
single  newspaper,  or  a  magazine  article,  or  a  novel, 
that  does  not  suggest  some  idea  on  your  subject.  You 
suddenly  become  aware  that  there  is  a  universe  of 
thought  as  well  as  a  material  universe,  and  you  find 
your  subject  "opening  out"  into  it  in  every  direction. 
Without  that  subject  in  mind,  your  reading  would 
have  had  no  such  result ;  your  apperceiving  concep- 
tions would  have  been  asleep ;  their  natural  prey  would 
have  escaped. 


342  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

These  illustrations  enable  us  to  realize  that  Dr. 
De  Garmo  is  right  when  he  soys  ihoX"  the Jirsi  great 
function  of  the  teacher  is  to  prepare  the  way  for  the 
rapid  and  efficieyit  assimilation  of  that  knowledge  which 
the  study  hour  or  the  recitation  period  is  to  furnish" 
and  that  this  function  consists  in  causing  "to  appear 
in  the  consciousness"  of  the  pupil  "those  interpreting 
ideas"  that  enable  him  to  assimilate  what  is  presented 
to  him.* 

Before  the  "presentation,"  then,  of  the  matter 
of  the  lesson,  the  pupil's  mind  should  be  prepared  for 
it.  He  has  read  it  to  get  information,  or  to  get  a  high 
rank — not  to  get  a  definite  answer  to  a  definite  ques- 
tion. He  understands  it  in  a  certain  superficial  way, 
but  he  has  not  assimilated  it — he  has  not  made  it  a 
part  of  his  mental  self.  Now,  we  can  help  him  to  do 
this  b}^  putting  a  definite  question  before  him — by 
setting  a  definite  end  before  him — that  he  may  summon 
all  his  energies  in  the  attempt  to  attain  it. 

And  when  we  have  stated  clearly  the  object  of  the 
Ics.son,  we  can  help  him  still  further  by  helping  hiiu 
to  array  in  consciousness  his  apperceiving  conceptions, 
so  that  he  will  be  most  full)-  prepared  to  accomplish 
the  work.    We  see  the  connection  between  this  lesson 


■^  De  Garmo's  Essentials  of  Method,  page  32. 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  343 

and  some  preceding  lesson.  He  does  not.  We  should 
recall  the  previous  lesson  to  his  mind ;  we  should  help 
him  to  bring  out  of  the  storehouse  of  his  memory 
everything  that  bears  on  the  lesson.  We  can,  of 
course,  do  this  most  successfully  by  asking  questions, 
because  in  this  way  we  secure  from  him  the  greatest 
amount  of  mental  activity.^' 

When   in   such  ways  the  mind  of  the  pupil  is  pre- 
pared for  the  efficient  assimilation  of  the  lesson,  the 
matter  of  the  lesson  should  be  presented — the  teacher, 
of  course,  requiring  as  much  of  this  to  be  done  by  the 
pupil  as  possible.    The  general  form  or  method  of  the 
presentation  will,  of  course,  depend  upon  the  object  in 
view.    If  our  aim  is  to  have  the  pupil  discover  for  him- 
self the  definition  or  principle  or  general   truth  we 
wish  him  to  know,  we  should  u.se  the  method  already 
described  —the  Objective  Method.     But  we  have  seen 
that  the  "play  of  the  mind"  there  spoken  of  is,  for  the 
most  part,  a  form  of  apperception  or  assimilation.    If 
we  bear  this  in  mind,  we  can  better  supply  the  con- 
ditions for  it  by  bringing  his  mind  into  contact  with 
those  phases  of  the  reality  in  question  that  present  the 
most  salient  features  for  the  activity  of  assimilation. 


*'See  on  this  whole  subject  the  hook  alreadj'  cited — by  the 
way,  a  most  suggestive  aud  stimulating  book. 


344  I^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

But  if  our  aim  is  to  impart  knowledge,  in  the  usual 
sense  of  the  phrase,  it  will  be  useful  for  us  to  remem- 
ber the  following  principle:  "  Objects  and  wholes  of  any 
kind  are  more  easily  discriminated  and  assimilated — ap- 
perceived  in  general — than  qualities  a7id  parts.  The 
ground  of  it  is  evident.  Objects  and  wholes  of  any 
kind  differ  from  each  other  in  more  marked  and  strik- 
ing ways  than  qualities  and  parts,  and  consequently 
can  be  more  easily  discriminated.  Since  they  also  re- 
semble each  other  in  a  greater  number  of  particulars, 
they  can  be  more  easily  assimilated. 

But  you  may  easily  settle  its  truth  by  appealing  to 
your  own  experience.  Which  do  you  recognize  more 
easily  and  certainly — your  friends  as  wholes,  or  their 
individual  features  ?  Try  to  describe  the  features  of 
your  most  intimate  friends  in  their  absence,  and  you 
will  see.  You  will  often  find  yourself  ludicrously  un- 
certain as  to  the  shape  of  the  nose,  the  color  of  the 
eyes  and  hair,  to  say  nothing  of  less  prominent 
features.  All  of  us  likewise  recognize  a  rose  when  we 
see  it,  but  it  requires  the  training  of  the  botanist  to 
point  out  the  qualities  which  distinguish  it  from  all 
other  flowers. 

Assuming  the  truth  of  this  principle,  it  is  evident 
that  we  can  best  assist  our  pupils  to  discriminate  and 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOI^OGY.  345 

assimilate  by  presenting  to  them  wholes  and  objects  be- 
fore parts  and  qualities. 

We  must  not  limit  the  application  of  this  principle 
to  maierm/  objects  and  rna^en'al  wholes.  It  applies  to 
thought  wholes  as  well.  Indeed,  strictly  speaking,  all 
wholes  are  thojight  wholes — wholes  made  by  thought, 
wholes  that  are  wholes  because  the  mind  chooses  to 
think  of  them  as  such.  There  is  absolutely  nothing 
in  existence  except  the  universe  which  we  may  not 
think  of  as  a  part  if  we  choose,  and  absolutely  nothing 
that  we  can  not  think  of  as  a  whole.  The  universe, 
including  everything,  can  not  be  thought  of  as  a  part 
of  any  thing  else.  Apart  from  that,  it  is  thinkings  and 
thinking  only,  which  makes  a  thing  a  part  or  a  whole. 

Many  arithmeticians  do  not  keep  this  fact  in  mind. 
A  fraction  is  often  defined  as  one  or  more  of  the  equal 
parts  of  a  unit,  as  though  units  were  things  of  fixed 
and  unchangeable  values.  I  divide  an  apple  into  four 
equal  parts,  and  you  ask  me  if  one  of  these  equal  parts 
is  a  fourth.  I  do  not  know  how  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion, or  rather  the  question  does  not  admit  of  an 
answer  until  it  is  made  more  definite.  If  you  ask  me 
what  I  call  one  of  the  parts  in  relation  to  the  other 
three,  I  answer,  a  unit.  It  is  one  in  relation  to  the 
other  three,  two  in  relation  to  eighths,/<7/^r  in  relation 


346  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

to  sixteenths,  and  one-fourth  in  relation  to  the  apple. 
The  apple  itself  is  one-fourth  when  considered  in  re- 
lation to  a  group  of  four  apples,  one-eighth  in  relation 
to  a  group  of  eight  apples,  and  so  on.  As  the  mind 
decides  in  what  relations  it  will  consider  things,  it  is 
clear  that  all  wholes,  as  such,  are  products  of  the 
mind.  The  reason  why  certain  wholes,  as  apples, 
oranges,  horses,  dogs,  etc.,  are  thought  of  as  wholes, 
in  a  special  sense,  is  that  the  purposes  of  life  and  their 
relation  to  each  other  make  it  natural  for  the  mind  to 
consider  them  as  such.  If  this  is  clear,  we  may  say 
that  a  whole  is  anything,  mental  or  material,  that  the 
mind  chooses  to  regard  as  a  whole.  Thus  we  may 
think  of  the  life  and  public  services  of  Alexander 
Hamilton  as  wholes.  And,  in  accordance  with  the 
principle  we  have  been  discussing,  the  student  will 
be  best  assisted  in  getting  clear  ideas  of  the  life  of  that 
great  man  by  having  his  attention  called  to  its  broad 
general  characteristics  first,  before  these  are  modified 
and  qualified.  If  the  student  learns  that  Hamilton  was 
first  a  Tory,  then  a  Democrat,  and  finally  a  believer  in 
a  strongly  centralized  aristocratic  Republic,  the  broad 
outlines  of  Hamilton's  political  creed  lie  before  him. 
The  qualifications  and  specific  description  of  these 
characterizations  will  put  the  changes  in  and  final 


LKSSONvS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  347 

character  of  Hamilton's  political  creed  with  the  ut- 
most definiteness  before  him.  So  if  your  object  is  to 
give  3'our  class  a  clear  idea  of  Hamilton's  public 
services,  first  give  them  a  clear  idea  of  the  great  work 
of  his  life — the  strengthening  and  centralizing  of  the 
general  government;  then  they  are  read}^  for  the  de- 
tails— the  measures  and  influences  by  which  these 
ends  were  reached."'' 

That  we  must  proceed  from  the  known  to  the  un- 
known is  another  well-established  rule  in  Pedagogy. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  it  is  based  on  the 
fact  that  all  knowing  consists  to  so  great  an  extent  in 
discriminating  and  assimilating.  When  I  learn  a  new 
fact — till  then,  of  course,  unknown — I  put  it  in  a  class 
of  already  known  facts. 

That  we  must  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, from  the  indefinite  to  the  definite,  from  the  un- 
qualified to  the  qualified,  is  another  well-established 
pedagogical  rule.  What  is  its  psychological  basis? 
Plainly  that  a  simple,  indefinite,  or  unqualified  fact  or 
statement  is  more  easily  discriminated  and  assimilated 
than  a  complex,  definite,  or  qualified  fact  or  statement. 
If  you  are  teaching  a  child  the  form  of  the  outlines  of 
South  America,  you  will  succeed  best  by  ignoring  its 

*See  on  this  subject  De  Garnio  on  Method-wholes, 


348  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

irregularities  in  the  beginning.  With  the  map  before 
him,  make  him  conscious  of  its  general  resemblance 
to  a  triangle  or  a  ham  of  meat,  or  other  familiar  object, 
before  you  try  to  teach  him  how  it  differs  in  shape 
from  them.  If  in  such  ways  you  fix  the  general  out- 
line in  his  mind  before  advancing  to  the  details,  you 
will  impart  clear  ideas.  And  why?  Because  you  are 
working  in  harmonj^  with  the  laws  of  his  mind. 

There  is  a  stronger  resemblance  between  the  out- 
line of  South  America  and  a  triangle  than  there  is 
between  it  and  any  other  simple  figure,  and  if  the 
child  has  a  familiar  knowledge  of  a  triangle,  he  assimi- 
lates the  general  shape  ot  South  America  as  soon  as 
his  attention  is  called  to  it.  Indeed,  so  far  as  thought 
is  concerned,  this  ease  comes  under  the  general  prin- 
ciple already  spoken  of — wholes  and  objects  are  more 
easily  discriminated  and  assimilated  than  parts  and 
qualities.  To  thought,  South  America  has  the  shape 
of  a  triangle — a  whole — qualified  by  certain  irregulari- 
ties. In  other  words,  just  as  the  mind  grasps  a  whole 
before  it  does  the  parts,  so  it  grasps  the  triangle  in 
South  America  before  it  does  the  deviations  from  a 
triangle.  So  likewise  of  the  unqualified  or  indefinite 
in  relation  to  the  qualified  or  definite.  In  relation  to 
thought,  the  unqualified  and  indefinite  are  wholes,  first 


LKSSONS    IN    PSYCHOIvOGY.  349 

known  as  such  before  they  are  qualified  and  made 
definite,  and  the  qualities  are  parts. 

If  in  this  way,  which,  with  Jevons,  we  may  call  the 
Method  of  Instruction,  or  by  means  of  the  Objective 
Method — let  us  call  it  the  Method  of  Discovery — we 
have  put  our  pupil  in  possession  of  a  concept,  or 
definition,  or  induction,  or  maxim — we  should,  as  Dr. 
De  Garmo  insists,  help  him  to  vitalize  his  knowledge 
by  helping  him  to  apply  it.*  In  teaching  history,  for 
example,  we  are  constantly  running  upon  some  truth 
about  human  nature,  or  upon  some  law  of  economics 
or  politics.  To  vitalize  this  truth,  the  pupil  must  be 
helped  to  see  its  relation  to  everything  to  which  it  ap- 
plies within  the  range  of  his  knowledge  and  experience. 

And  here  we  can  see   the   educational   value   of 

®  I  can  not  agree  with  Dr.  De  Garmo  that  this  last  stage 
or  step  always  forms  a  part  of  a  correct  method.  He  holds 
that"(i)  the  apperception  of  new  facts  in  preparation  and 
presentation  ;  (2)  the  transition  from  individual  to  general 
notions,  whether  the  latter  appear  as  definitions,  rules,  prin- 
ciples, or  moral  maxims  ;  and  (3)  the  application  of  these  gen- 
eral truths  to  concrete  facts,  i.  e.,  the  return  from  uuiversals 
to  particulars,"  are  the  three  "  essential  stages  of  a  correct 
method."  I  think  that  he  makes  this  second  step  much  too 
definite,  as  is  evident  from  what  I  have  said  about  "  the  play 
of  the  mind  about  the  reality  "  in  discussing  the  Objective 
Method.  In  some  cases,  as  we  have  seen,  "the  play  of  the 
mind  "  is  simply  the  appreciation  of  what  is  beautiful.  How 
can  such  appreciation  be  applied? 


350  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

"  reviews" — it  is  to  give  to  the  student's  knowledge  that 
familiarity  that  makes  it  possible  for  him  to  relate  it 
properly  to  new  knowledge,  and  to  use  it  in  acquiring 
new  knowledge. 

Ordinary  usage  tends  to  promulgate  the  idea  that  re- 
views are  useful  only  to  fix  things  in  the  mind  of  the 
student  in  order  that  he  can  tell  them.  If  they  are 
only  good  for  that,  they  are  hardly  good  for  anything. 
There  are  three  stages  of  knowing.  In  the  first, 
knowledge  is  merely  implicit;  the  student  can  not  ex- 
press what  he  knows.  Such  knowledge  is  useful  as  a 
foundation  for  something  better;  but  if  it  never  leaves 
that  stage,  it  is  almost  worthless.  In  the  second,  it 
has  become  explicit;  the  student  can  tell  what  he 
knows,  but  he  does  not  know  it  fluently  enough,  so  to 
speak,  to  use  it  in  thinking.  In  the  third,  the  student 
not  only  knows,  but  knows  so  well  that  he  can  use  his 
knowledge  in  thinking ;  he  can  use  it  in  acquiring, 
and  also  in  illustrating,  new  knowledge.  Such  know- 
ledge is  thoroughly  assimilated;  it  has  become  a  part, 
as  it  were,  of  the  warp  and  woof,  the  flesh  and  bone 
and  blood  of  his  mind.  To  develop  knowledge  into 
that  shape  is  the  great  function  of  reviews. 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  35 1 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  Make  a  carefiil  summary  of  the  last  lesson. 

2.  In  what  does  apperception  consist  ? 

3.  What  light  does  it  throw  on  the  preparation  of  the 
pupil's  mind  for  the  lesson  ?     Illustrate. 

4.  In  what  should  such  preparation  consist  ? 

5.  Explain  the  methods  of  instruction  and  discovery. 

6.  What  principle  underlies  the  method  of  instruction, 
and  what  is  its  proof? 

7.  What  is  a  thought-whole  ?     Illustrate. 

8.  Why  should  we  proceed  from  the  simple  to  the  com- 
plex, from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  etc.  ? 

9.  What  are  De  Garmo's  three  "essential  stages?" 

10.  Criticise  his  statement  of  them. 

11.  What  is  the  function  of  reviews  ? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

I.     Give  examples  of  De  Garmo's  last  stage,  selected  from 
Geography,  History,  and  Reading. 


«t..V;I, 


352  I^BSSONS   IN   PSYCHOI<OGY. 

LESSON  XXXV. 
deve;i,opmknt. 

WE  saw  in  our  first  lessons  that  the  primary  end 
of  education  is  development.  After  having 
made  a  survey,  superficial  though  it  has  been,  of  the 
intellectual  faculties,  we  may  profitably  consider  a  lit- 
tle more  closely  what  it  means  and  what  its  conditions 

are. 

Aristotle  said :  "It  is  a  shame  not  to  have  been 
educated ;  for  he  who  has  received  an  education  differs 
from  him  who  has  not,  as  the  living  does  from  the 
dead."  I  know  not  where  to  go  to  find  a  more  forci- 
ble statement  of  the  nature  of  education.  And  yet  it 
is  misleading.  The  difference  between  the  educated 
and  the  uneducated  man  is  not  so  much  akin  to  that 
between  the  living  and  the  dead,  as  to  that  between 
the  fully  developed  tree  and  the  seed  from  which  it 
sprang.  The  two  contrasted  ideas  are  not  life  and 
death,  but  completeness,  fullness  of  life,  and  incom- 
pleteness, defectiveness  of  life. 

In  order  to  get  our  pupils  to  obtain  that  abundance 
of  life  and  power  which  it  is  the  object  of  education  to 


LESSONS    IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  3.S3 

give,  we  must,  of  course,  induce  them  to  exercise  their 
powers.  If  their  powers  of  observation,  memory, 
imagination,  reasoning,  etc.,  are  to  be  developed,  we 
must  get  them  to  observe,  remember,  imagine,  reason 
— there  is  no  other  way.  This  is  the  reason  for  that 
oft-quoted  maxim  that  it  is  not  what  we  do  for  our 
pupils,  but  what  we  induce  them  to  do  for  themselves 
that  educates  them.  You  can  no  more  observe  or 
remember  or  think  for  your  pupils  than  you  can  eat  or 
drink  for  them.  But  as  an  intelligent  mother  can 
tempt  the  appetite  of  her  ailing  child  with  food 
adapted  to  its  digestive  powers,  so  you  can  induce 
your  pupils  to  exercise  their  powers  by  presenting 
material  adapted  to  their  minds ;  and  the  result  of  a 
systematic  exercise  of  the  powers  of  the  mind  is 
education. 

It  is  putting  the  same  fact  in  another  light  to  say 
that  all  education  is  the  formation  of  certain  habits. 
Dr.  Reed  said :  "As  without  instinct  the  infant  could 
not  live  to  become  a  man,  so  without  habit  man  would 
remain  an  infant  through  life,  and  would  be  as  help- 
less, as  unhandy,  as  speechless,  and  as  much  a  child 
in  understanding  at  three  score  as  at  three."  This 
doubtless  seems  a  strong  statement,  and  yet  a  literal 
acceptance  of  it  would  lead  one  to  under-estimate, 
23 


354  tESSONS   IN    PSYCHOI^OGY. 

rather  than  over-estimate,  the  work  of  habit.  If  a 
child's  sensations  become  more  definite,  if  his  percep- 
tions become  clearer,  if  his  memory  becomes  more 
accurate,  if  his  imaginations  come  to  correspond  more 
and  more  with  facts,  if  he  reasons  more  and  more 
correctly  and  logically,  it  is  because  of  habit.  Habit 
is  the  architect  that  builds  the  feeble,  rudimentary 
powers  of  the  child  into  the  strong,  developed  powers 
of  the  full-grown  man.  What  is  the  I^aw  of  Habit?  It 
is  that  every  time  we  perform  any  action,  mental  or 
physical,  we  have  more  proneness  to,  and  a  greater 
facility  for,  the  performance  of  that  action  under  simi- 
lar circumstances  than  we  had  before.  All  the  curious 
gestures,  ways  of  holding  the  hands,  attitudes,  modes 
of  speech,  and  the  like  that  characterize  the  various 
people  we  know,  are  due  to  the  I^aw  of  Habit. 

Sully  says  that  the  "formation  of  a  disposition  to 
think,  feel,  etc.,  in  the  same  way  as  before,  underlies 
what  we  call  habit,"  and  that  "in  its  most  comprehen- 
sive sense"  it  means  "a  fixed  tendency  to  think,  feel, 
or  act  in  a  particular  way  under  special  circumstances." 
He  thinks  that  "habit  refers  to  the  fixing  of  mental 
operations  in  particular  directions,"  and  hence,  that  it 
does  not  constitute  the  sole  ingredient  of  intellectual 
development.     He  thinks  that  it  is  "the  element  of 


I^ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  355 

persistence,  of  custom,  the  conservative  tendency,^'  and 
that  since  "growth  implies  flexibility,  modifiability, 
susceptibility  to  new  impressions,  the  progressive  ten- 
dency," "  habit  is  in  a  manner  opposed  to  growth." 

Is  he  right  ?  Is  it  true  that  habit  is  in  a  manner 
opposed  to  growth  ?  If  so,  education  means  more  than 
the  formation  of  certain  habits,  and  I  have  over-stated 
the  importance  of  the  Law  of  Habit. 

His  opinion  grows  out  of  a  failure  to  distinguish 
between  habits  and  the  L,aw  Habit.  Many  particular 
habits  undoubtedly  are  bad.  A  man  may  form  the 
habit  of  reasoning  on  insufficient  data,  or  of  observing 
carelessly ;  he  may  form  the  habit  of  forgetting  that  he 
is  finite,  and  so  liable  to  mistakes ;  that  all  that  he  has 
thought  on  any  subject  may  be  wrong  because  he  may 
have  overlooked  some  fact  already  known,  or  because 
some  unknown  fact  may  contradict  all  his  conclusions. 
He  may  form  the  habit  of  laying  great  emphasis  on 
consistency,  that  "  hobgoblin  of  little  minds,"  and  so 
go  tlirougli  the  world  with  his  head  turned  over  his 
shoulder  determining  what  he  will  believe  to-day  by 
what  he  believed  yesterday.  He  may  fonn  the  habit 
of  deciding  what  he  will  believe  by  some  other  princi- 
ple than  reason.  As  the  Chinese  go  to  Confucius,  and 
.  Catholics  to  the  Pope,  to  tell  them  what  to  believe,  so 


356  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

he  may  go  to  his  father,  or  some  politician,  or  the 
convention  of  his  party,  or  his  newspaper  to  tell  hira 
what  to  believe.  These  habits  are  unfavorable  to 
growth,  and  are  therefore  bad  habits;  but  is  there  any- 
thing in  the  nature  of  the  I^aw  of  Habit  to  make  it 
necessary  for  us  to  form  bad  habits?  Are  there  not 
some  open-minded,  cautious,  independent  reasoners? 
And  what  is  an  open-minded  reasoner?  He  is  one  who 
has  formed  the  habit  of  being  constantly  on  the  alert 
to  find  new  evidence ;  one  who  knows  and  feels  that 
when  men  have  done  their  utmost  to  avoid  error,  they 
can  not  be  so  sure  they  are  right  as  to  shut  their  minds 
to  all  further  considerations ;  one  who  has  so  habituated 
himself  to  considering  the  supreme  difficulty  of  arriv- 
ing at  the  truth  in  any  matter  of  complexity  that  he  is 
rather  inclined  to  wonder  that  men  are  ever  right, 
than  to  assume  that  they  can  consider  themselves  as 
undoubtedly  right  whenever  they  reach  a  conclusion. 
What  is  a  cautious  reasoner  ?  He  is  one  who  has  so  ac- 
customed himself  to  the  thought  of  the  infiniteness  of 
the  universe,  that  what  is  known  in  comparison  with 
what  is,  seems  to  him  like  a  drop  of  water  in  compari- 
son with  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  hence  he  habitually 
realizes  the  absolute  necessity  of  collecting  as  many 
facts  as  possible  bearing  on  any  matter  under  con- 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  357 

sideration  before  he  reaches  a  conclusion.  What  is  an 
independent  reasoner  ?  He  is  one  who  has  no  Confu- 
cius, one  who  does  not  go  to  his  father,  or  to  any  in- 
fluential politician,  or  to  his  party  convention,  or  his 
newspaper  to  find  out  what  to  believe — one  who  does 
not  use  his  reason  to  find  arguments  to  defend  conclu- 
sions furnished  him  from  some  external  source,  but  to 
learn  what  is  true. 

Such  habits,  be  it  noted,  are  as  much  the  result  of 
the  I^aw  of  Habit  as  are  the  habits  that  are  opposed  to 
growth.  The  Law  of  Habit  tends  to  make  us  whatever 
we  want  to  be  enough  to  express  our  desires  in  action. 
Is  there  any  antagonism  between  such  habits  and 
growth  ?  Can  we  say  that  such  habits  represent  the 
conservative  tendency?  I  can  not  think  so.  When 
teachers  come  to  realize  that  this  characteristic  of 
open-mindedness  and  caution  and  independence  is  not 
only  one  of  the  rarest  among  educated  men,  but  one 
of  the  most  important ;  when  they  realize  that  no 
matter  how  able  and  brilliant  a  man  may  seem,  he  is  a 
fossil,  a  thing  of  arrested  development,  precisely  to 
the  extent  to  which  he  is  lacking  in  this  characteristic; 
when  they  have  become  profoundly  convinced  of  the 
fact  that  the  supreme  difference  between  the  most 
progressive  civilizations  in  the  world  and  such  nations 


358  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

as  the  Chinese,  is  that  the  people  of  the  former  have 
formed  the  habit,  to  some  extent,  of  going  to  reason 
to  tell  them  what  to  believe,  and  the  people  of  the 
latter  have  formed  the  habit  of  accepting  their  beliefs 
on  authority,  they  will  not  only  be  sure  that  there  is 
no  antagonism  between  growth  and  habit,  but  that  an 
important  part  of  their  work  consists  in  rooting  up 
the  habits  which  would  confine  the  thoughts  of  their 
pupils  within  the  thoughts  of  the  past,  by  helping 
them  to  form  habits  of  open-minded,  cautious,  inde- 
pendent reasoning. 

I  hope  you  will  pardon  me  for  repeating  here  that 
you  can  not  help  your  pupils  to  form  that  habit  until 
you  have  formed  it  for  yourself.  It  is  the  example  of 
open-minded,  cautious,  independent  reasoning;  it  is 
the  fervid  appeal  to  students  not  to  imitate  a  flock  of 
sheep,  who  jump  when  their  leader  has  jumped,  and 
do  not  jump  when  he  has  not  jumped,  without 
regard  to  the  considerations  that  influenced  him 
— a  fervor  which  can  emanate  only  from  one  who  so 
believes  in,  as  to  practice  that  kind  of  reasoning ;  it 
is  the  keen  and  merciless  exposure  of  the  utter  irra- 
tionality of  unreasonableness  by  one  whose  whole 
being  is  saturated  with  the  conviction  ;  this  it  is  that 
gives  students  the  strongest  impulse  to  the  formation 
of  the  habit  of  reasoning  in  this  way. 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  359 

So  far  as  education  consists  in  the  formation  of 
good  habits,  it  is  evident  that  the  work  of  the  teacher 
consists  in  putting  the  pupil  in  such  a  position  as  to 
induce  him  to  act  so  that  good  habits  will  be  the  re- 
sult. How  can  he  do  this?  A  consideration  of  the 
factors  and  order  of  development  will  throw  further 
light  on  this  question. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 


I 


State  aud  criticise  Aristotle's  definition  of  education. 

2.  What  is  the  Law  of  Habit? 

3.  How  does  Sully  define  it? 

4.  Is  he  right  ? 

5.  Distinguish  between  the  Law  of  Habit  aud  habits. 

6.  What  can  we  do  to  help  our  pupils  become  cautious 
and  independent  reasoners  ? 


360  LBSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON  XXXVI. 

DEVELOPMENT. 

T  X  7E  saw  in  the  last  lesson  that  a  large  part  of  our 
*  '  work  in  teaching  consists  in  putting  our 
pupils  in  such  positions — bringing  such  influences  to 
bear  upon  them — as  to  induce  them  to  act  so  that 
they  may  form  good  mental  habits.  That  we  may  do 
this  successfully,  it  is  desirable  for  us  to  have  a  clear 
apprehension  of  the  order  in  which  the  faculties  of  the 
mind  develop,  and  the  conditions  of  their  develop- 
ment. 

When  I  say  that  the  faculties  of  the  intellect  de- 
velop in  a  certain  order,  I  mean  that  they  reach  ma- 
turity in  a  certain  order.  As  we  have  seen,  they  begin 
to  develop  about  the  same  time.  Perception — the 
second  to  reach  maturity — involves  memory,  imagina- 
tion, conception,  judgment,  and  reasoning.  But  al- 
though they  begin  to  develop  together,  they  get  their 
growth  at  very  different  times,  although  in  an  in- 
variable order. 

The  order  in  which  they  develop  is  the  same  in 
Avhich  we  have  considered  them — nensatiom,  percep- 


I<ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  36 1 

tion,  memory,  imagination,  first  reproductive  and 
then  constructive;  and  thinking,  in  the  three  forms  of 
conception,  judgment,  and  reasoning. 

The  older  pedagogy  maintained  that  our  education 
of  the  child  should  have  in  view  not  what  is  suited  to 
his  nature,  but  what  the  future  man  will  need.  We 
should  teach  the  child  this  or  that,  not  because  it  is 
calculated  to  interest  him  and  stimulate  him  to  a  right 
use  of  his  powers,  but  because  the  future  man  will  find 
a  knowledge  of  it  useful.  Rousseau  went  to  the  op- 
posite extreme,  and  declared  that  we  should  forget  the 
future  man  altogether;  that  our  one  aim  should  be  to 
stimulate  the  child  to  observe,  to  judge,  to  reason — to 
exercise  his  powers,  in  a  word;  and  that  the  sole  test 
of  the  value  of  knowledge  to  a  child  is  its  stimulating 
power. 

Evidently  the  proper  course  is  to  choose  the  mean 
between  these  extremes — other  things  being  equal, 
to  teach  those  facts  that  will  tend  to  develop  interests 
that  will  be  most  useful  to  the  future  man.  The  edu- 
cator should  have  one  eye  on  the  child  and  the  other 
on  the  man ;  he  should  try  to  so  stimulate  the  child 
that  his  faculties  may  get  the  utmost  possible  develop- 
ment, and,  when  possible,  through  the  action  of  his 
mind  on  material  that  the  man  will  find  useful.     But 


362  LESSONS   IH   PSYCHOLOGY. 

whenever  we  have  to  choose  between  ignoring  the 
child  or  ignoring  the  future  man,  by  all  means  let  us 
choose  the  latter.  To  forget  the  child  for  the  sake  of 
the  man  is  like  killing  the  goose  to  get  the  golden 
eggs. 

It  is,  then,  our  business  to  inquire,  at  every  stage 
of  a  child's  development,  what  powers  are  most  active. 
We  need  to  know  what  he  can  do,  since  it  is  only  by 
doing  what  he  can  do  that  he  acquires  the  power  to 
do  what  he  can  not  do. 

Since  the  power  to  have  definite  sensations  is  first 
developed,  it  should  be  first  cultivated.  Fortunately 
for  the  child,  that  part  of  his  education  is,  in  the  main, 
attended  to  by  nature.  The  incessant  activity  of  the 
child  from  the  beginning  of  life  is  a  constant  training 
of  his  senses,  under  which  his  sensations  become  more 
and  more  definite.  That  part  of  his  education  is,  for 
the  most  part,  completed  before  he  is  old  enough  to  go 
to  school,  though  the  teacher,  especially  in  the  kinder- 
garten, can  do  something  in  this  direction,  and  the  in- 
telligent mother  more.  The  work  of  each  consists  in 
supplying  the  senses  with  suitable  material. 

The  faculty  which  ought  especially  to  claim  the  at- 
tention of  teachers  in  the  primary  grades  is  perception. 
That  power  is  probably  most  active  in  the  early  years 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY,  363 

of  a  child's  life.  For  this  reason,  children  in  these 
grades  should  be  largely  employed  with  objects.  At 
this  age,  also,  children  are  very  active.  They  like  to 
exercise  their  physical  powers,  and  particularly  dis- 
like inactivity.  This  fact  should  on  no  account  be  lost 
sight  of  by  the  primary  teacher.  Keep  children  em- 
ployed on  work  that  is  agreeable  to  them.  It  is  not  the 
number  of  hours  per  day  that  children  sit  in  the  school- 
room, but  the  quantity  and  quality  of  work  they  do 
that  educates  them. 

But  here  again  we  should  note  that  the  best  train- 
ing of  the  senses  can  be  given  not  by  the  teacher,  but 
by  the  parent,  especially  by  the  mother — best  because, 
unless  the  child  can  attend  a  kindergarten,  the  best 
period  in  his  life  for  the  training  of  his  senses  is  gone 
before  he  is  old  enough  to  go  to  school.  A  child  of  six, 
who  has  been  properly  trained  at  home,  will  have  al- 
ready that  love  of  nature  which  it  is  one  great  object 
of  the  training  of  the  senses  to  give.  He  will  know 
the  name  of,  and  be  able  to  recognize,  all  the  more 
common  cultivated  flowers,  and  all  the  wild  flowers  in 
the  country  around  him.  He  will  be  able  to  recognize 
all  the  trees  and  birds — will  know  the  shapes  of  the 
leaves  of  the  trees,  and  the  notes  and  habits  of  the 
birds.    Such  a  child  will  bring  to  school  a  habit  of  ob- 


364  LRSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

servation;  all  that  the  teacher  will  need  to  do  is  to  con- 
firm and  strengthen  it  and  direct  it  in  the  most  useful 
channels. 

The  period  when  memory  reaches  its  maturity- 
Bain  thinks  it  is  when  the  child  is  ten  or  eleven — 
marks  the  time  designated  by  nature  for  the  special 
exercise  of  the  memory.  Some  exercise  of  the  me- 
chanical memory  there  must  be — some  learning  by 
heart ;  this  is  the  time  when  it  is  easiest.  This  is  the 
time  for  learning  choice  selections  of  prose  and  poetry. 
Children  show  their  fondness  for  rhyme  at  a  very  early 
age.  This  is  one  of  nature's  hints — a  hint  the  heeding 
of  which  would  much  reduce  the  number  of  men  and 
women  who  are  blind  to  the  beauties  of  literature. 
This  is  the  time  for  learning  the  few  dates  in  history 
that  must  be  learned.  But  even  at  this  age  pupils 
should  not  be  required  or  permitted  to  memorize  what 
they  can  attach  no  meaning  to. 

Both  reproductive  and  constructive  imagination 
should  be  taken  into  training  at  a  very  early  age.  Ob- 
serve a  child  of  three  when  left  to  himself,  and  you 
will  see  that  he  divides  his  time  about  equally  between 
three  sets  of  activities — physical  activities,  apparently 
due  to  his  love  of  exercising  his  physical  powers — 
running,  jumping,  and  a   thousand  other  things,  the 


LESSONvS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  365 

only  end  of  which  seems  to  be  physical  activity — of 
the  senses,  and  of  the  imagination.  In  imagination, 
he  goes  to  school,  writes  and  receives  letters,  goes 
shopping,  entertains  company — plays  the  entire 
comedy  and  tragedy  of  life,  so  far  as  it  has  come  with- 
in the  range  of  his  observation  and  experience.  He 
is  very  fond  of  pictures  at  this  age,  and  of  stories 
about  everything  that  he  can  even  faintly  apprehend. 
These  tastes  should  be  gratified  to  the  utmost  possible 
extent.  Stories  about  animals  that  he  knows,  about 
birds  that  he  is  acquainted  with,  so  simplified  as  to  be 
brought  within  the  range  of  his  apprehension,  will 
train  his  imagination  and  deepen  his  interest  in  those 
objects.  The  thousand  and  one  questions  that  he  is 
constantly  asking  should  be  answered  when  posssible, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  stimulating  his  curiosity,  but 
in  order  to  put  an  image,  however  indefinite  and  in- 
accurate, in  place  of  a  mental  vacuum.  He  should  be 
permitted  to  look  at  pictures — so  far  as  possible  such 
as  have  an  educational  value.  If  at  the  age  of  two  or 
three  he  comes  to  know  the  pictures  of  Washington 
and  Webster  and  Clay  and  Lincoln,  when  his  mother 
or  teacher  begins  to  tell  him  stories  about  them  two 
or  three  years  later,  his  recollection  of  their  pictures 
will  be  so  many  apperceiving  ideas,  and  they  will  iin- 


366  I,8SS0NS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

mensely  increase  his  interest  in  the  stories.*  Ob- 
viously we  can  in  this  way  also  lay  the  foundation  for 
an  interest  in  geography,  and  at  the  same  time  culti- 
vate his  imaginative  and  observing  powers.  The 
imagination  of  children  at  school  should  be  cultivated 
in  connection  with  language  lessons.  They  should 
read  suitable  works  of  fiction,  adapted  to  their  stage 
of  development,  so  as  not  merely  to  cultivate  their 
imagination,  but  to  develop  a  taste  for  good  litera- 
ture. 

The  fact  that  thinking  is  the  last  of  the  powers  of 
the  mind  to  develop  designates  the  place,  in  a  course 
of  studies,  where  abstract  studies,  such  as  grammar, 
should  be  taken  up.  Technical  grammar  should  be 
left  to  the  High  School.  It  is  as  absurd  to  require  a 
child  to  study  technical  grammar  as  it  would  be  to  re- 
quire him  to  do  the    work    of    a    full-grown    man. 

*••  Everything  known,  for  which  we  have  the  helps  of  ap- 
perception, seems  natural  to  us,  because  it  awakens  responses 
in  us,  and  because  we  can  easily  find  our  bearings  in  it;  the 
strange  and  foreign  leaves  us  cold,  and  awakens  at  most  only 
our  surprise ;  we  know  not  what  we  have  to  do  with  it ;  hence 
the  impulse  to  give  significance  to  everything,  to  explain  it, 
to  relate  it  to  the  known  ;  hence,  when  the  name  of  a  man,  a 
city,  an  event  is  mentioned,  the  satisfaction  of  being  able  to 
say,  '  I  know  the  man,  I  have  been  to  the  city,  the  circum- 
stances of  the  event  were  so  and  so.'" — Lindner's  Psychology, 
page  128. 


I^ESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  367 

Language  lessons,  in  which  he  is  trained  to  use  gram- 
mar, should  be  given  him  from  his  first  year  at  school. 
The  pupils  in  many  of  the  best  schools  in  the  country 
would  hardly  understand  you  if  you  asked  them  to 
tell  you  the  parts  of  speech  of  the  words  of  any  given 
sentence.  They  study  grammar  by  studying  the 
masterpieces  of  our  great  writers.  Recognizing  that 
the  primary  purpose  of  the  study  is  to  give  pupils  the 
power  to  use  the  language  correctly,  the  teachers  of 
those  schools  put  before  their  pupils  models  of  good 
English,  and  require  them  to  observe  and  imitate. 
This  method  of  teaching  grammar  not  only  reaches 
the  end  in  view,  but  accomplishes  the  no  less  im- 
portant purpose  of  bringing  the  mind  of  the  student 
into  contact  with  good  literature  and  cultivating  his 
taste  for  it.  But  the  science  of  grammar  is  beyond  a 
child's  comprehension,  because  his  reasoning  powers 
are  not  enough  developed,  and  the  attempt  to  teach  it 
to  him  generally  results  in  a  disgust  with  the  subject 
and  dislike  of  school. 

But  we  .should  not  forget  that  though  these  powers 
get  their  growth  in  a  certain  order,  they  are  all  grow- 
ing together,  and  consequently  should  be  exercised 
together  to  some  extent.  Though  the  primary  pur- 
pose of  object  teaching  is   the  cultivation  of  the  ob- 


368  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

serving  powers,  reason  and  memory  should  not  be 
neglected.  And  so  all  along.  The  skillful  teacher 
will  be  constantly  on  the  alert  for  an  opportunity  to 
awaken  curiosity,  to  impart  useful  knowledge,  to  set 
his  pupils  to  observing,  to  get  them  to  reason,  no 
matter  what  the  subject  may  be,  or  the  primary  pur- 
pose of  its  place  in  the  course  of  study. 

But  why  is  it  that  the  faculties  of  the  mind  develop 
at  all  ?  In  other  words,  what  are  the  conditions  of 
development  ? 

Evidently  one  condition  is  the  action  of  natural 
objects  on  the  organs  of  sense.  We  have  seen  that 
knowledge  begins  with  sensation ;  that  without  sensa- 
tion there  would  be  no  knowledge,  and  that  a  sensa- 
tion is  that  mental  state  which  directly  follows  upon 
that  change  in  the  brain  which  normally  results  from 
a  stimulation  of  the  nerves  of  sense.  If,  therefore, 
there  were  no  stimulations  of  the  nerves  of  sense  there 
would  be  no  sensation.  If  the  eye  never  came  in 
contact  with  light,  there  would  be  no  sensation  of 
color.  If  the  ear  never  came  in  contact  with  vibra- 
tions of  air,  there  would  be  no  sensations  of  sound,  and 
so  on.  And  inasmuch  as  feeling  and  willing  are  de- 
pendent on  knowing,  it  is  clear  that  we  should  neither 
feel,  nor  know,  nor  will,  were  it  not  for  the  action  of 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  369 

natural  objects  on  the  organs  of  sense.  Borrowing  a 
phrase  from  Sully,  we  may  call  this  influence  the 
action  of  the  physical  environment. 

But  while  the  mind  would  be  aroused  from  the  tor- 
por of  entire  inactivity  simply  by  the  action  of  physi- 
cal objects  on  the  organs  of  .sense,  it  would  remain  in 
a  very  crude,  undeveloped  state  indeed,  if  this  were 
the  only  influence  brought  to  bear  upon  it.  Whether 
the  child  would  ever  learn  to  walk  if  he  never  saw 
any  one  walking,  I  will  not  undertake  to  say.  But 
there  is  no  doubt  that  he  would  never  learn  to  talk  if 
he  did  not  hear  language  .spoken.  And  when  we  real- 
ize the  almost  absolute  dependence  of  thought  on 
language,  we  shall  see  that  the  presence  of  other 
human  beings  is  as  essential  to  anything  which  de- 
serves the  name  of  mental  development  as  it  is  to  the 
physical  support  of  the  child. 

If  we  wish  to  appreciate  how  extensive  is  the 
social  environment,  we  have  only  to  remember  that 
everything  ivhich  brings  mind  into  contact  with  mind  is 
a  part  of  it.  This  being  true,  it  is  clear  that  you  may 
constantly  extend  your  social  environment  if  you 
choose  to  do  so.  When  you  grasp  the  meaning  of  a 
word  before  unknown  to  you,  you  bring  your  mind 
into  contact  with  the  mind  of  every  one  who  has 
24 


370  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

helped  to  give  that  word  its  meaning.  You  get  from 
them  a  new  instrument  of  thought ;  and  the  more 
definite  the  meaning  of  the  word,  and  the  more  pre- 
cisely you  have  apprehended  it,  the  more  help  it  will 
give  you  in  thinking.  In  like  manner,  whenever  you 
add  to  your  knowledge  of  historj^  you  extend  5'^our 
social  environment.  The  knowledge  of  what  other 
men  have  thought  and  done,  of  what  they  strove  to  do 
and  what  they  failed  to  do,  brings  your  mind  into 
contact  with  their  minds,  enlarges  by  so  much  your 
social  environment.  Every  fact  of  science  which  you 
learn  has  the  same  result.  Everj^  such  fact  was  first 
a  thought  in  the  mind  of  its  discoverer.  He  proved 
it  and  made  a  record  of  it  in  a  book,  and  thus  brings 
his  mind  into  contact  with  the  mind  of  everj'^  student 
of  the  science. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  In  what  order  do  the  faculties  of  the  mind  develop? 
What  does  perception  involve  ?    Why  ? 

2.  What  mistake  did  Rousseau  make  as  to  the  training 
of  a  child? 

3.  What  sort  of  training  should  a  child's  observing  and 
imaginative  powers  receive  before  he  is  old  enough  to  go  to 
school  ? 

4.  How  should  they  be  trained  at  school  ? 

5.  What  benefit  will  a  child  receive  from  learning  to 
recognize  pictures  of  great  men  and  famous  places? 


T.fiSSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  37 1 

6.  Give  some  of  the  concepts  involved  in  technical  gram- 
mar that  are  beyond  the  grasp  of  the  average  grammar  school 
pupil  ? 

7.  How  should  grammar  be  taught  to  grammar  school 
pupils  ? 

8.  State  and  illustrate  the  two  conditions  of  development 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Give  illustrations  from  your  own  observations  of  the 
great  activity  of  the  imagination  in  early  childhood. 

2.  Give  illustrations  of  the  fondness  of  children  for 
rhyme. 

3.  Take  a  child  of  two  whose  parents  are  fond  of  flowers 
and  who  have  many  varieties  of  them,  and  see  how  many  he 
can  recognize. 


372  I,ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

I.ESSON  XXXVII. 

DEVEI,OPMENT. 

T  T  OW  potent  is  the  social  environment  in  shaping 
-''  -^  the  minds  of  men  we  shall  find  it  difl&cult  to 
realize.  At  one  time  and  in  one  countr)'  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  world,  we  find  one  idea  prevailing,  and  in 
another,  another.  In  Sparta,  the  brave  soldier ;  in 
Athens,  the  symmetrically  developed  man  ;  among  the 
monks  of  the  Middle  Ages,  the  man  who  had  com- 
pletely renounced  the  world ;  among  the  Jesuits,  the 
man  who  not  only  does  what  his  superior  directs,  but 
who  thinks  and  feels  as  his  superior  does,  is  the  ideal 
man.  What  is  the  explanation  of  this?  Are  these 
ideals  the  conclusions  of  diflferent  chains  of  reasoning? 
Not  at  all.  Question  any  of  those  who  hold  them,  and 
the  best  answer  you  will  get,  the  answer  that  goes  to 
the  root  of  the  matter,  is  that  they  seem  to  be  true. 
And  what  is  the  explanation  of  this  seeming  ?  ; 

Evidently  this  question  is  another  form  of  one  we 
have  already  discussed — the  question  as  to  why  differ- 
ent men  base  their  beliefs  and  their  lives  on  different 
major  premises.     Here  we  may  note  that  it  is  a  part 


LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  373 

due,  without  doubt,  to  the  social  environment.  Walter 
Bagehot  points  out  the  fact  that  in  the  great  majority 
of  cases  our  beliefs  are  due  not  to  processes  of  reason- 
ing, but  to  our  imitating  the  beliefs  of  those  around 
us.  He  says  :  "  The  main  seat  of  the  imitative  part 
of  our  nature  is  our  beliefs,  and  the  causes  predisposing 
us  to  believe  this,  or  disinclining  us  to  believe  that, 
are  among  the  obscurest  parts  of  our  nature.  In 
'  Kothen  '  there  is  a  capital  description  of  how  every 
sort  of  European  resident  in  the  East,  even  the 
shrewd  merchant  and  the  post  captain,  with  his 
bright,  wakeful  eyes  of  commerce,  comes  soon  to  be- 
lieve in  witchcraft,  and  to  assure  you  in  confidence 
that  there  '  really  is  something  in  it.'  He  has  never 
seen  anything  convincing  himself,  but  he  has  seen 
those  who  have  seen  those  who  have  seen.  lu  fact,  he 
has  lived  in  an  atmosphere  of  infectious  belief,  and  he 
has  inhaled  it.  Scarcely  any  one  can  help  yielding  to 
the  current  infatuations  of  his  sect  or  party.  For  a 
short  time — say  some  fortnight — he  is  resolute;  he 
argues  and  objects ;  but  day  by  day  the  poison  thrives, 
and  reason  wanes.  What  he  hears  from  his  friends, 
what  he  reads  in  the  party  organ,  produces  its  eflfect. 
The  plain,  palpable  conclu.sion  which  every  one 
around  him  iielieves,  has  an  influence  yet  greater  and 


374  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

more  subtle ;  that  conclusion  seems  so  solid  and  un- 
mistakable ;  liis  own  good  arguments  get  daily  more 
and  more  like  a  dream.  Soon  the  gravest  sage  shares 
the  folly  of  the  party  with  which  he  acts  and  the  sect 
with  which  he  worships."  Every  one  must  have 
noticed  how  much  more  he  is  influenced  by  the  opin- 
ions of  an  able  man  whom  he  meets  from  day  to  day 
than  he  is  by  the  opinions  of  a  man  whom  he  knows 
merely  through  books,  but  whose  ability  he  estimates 
as  much  higher.  The  reason  is  that  actual  contact 
with  a  person  holding  a  belief,  appeals  to  the  imitative 
part  of  our  nature  more  strongly  than  the  simple 
knowledge,  gained  by  reading,  that  a  certain  indi- 
vidual holds  the  belief. 

But  not  merel}^  are  beliefs  imbibed  in  this  way  due 
to  the  social  environment,  but  also,  as  we  have  seen, 
those  which  are  reached  by  processes  of  reasoning, 
provided  some  other  mind  thought  out  the  reasons  for 
us.  And  when  we  remember  how  little  originality 
there  is  in  the  world,  we  shall  begin  to  see  to  what  an 
extent  our  beliefs  are  made  for  us ;  to  what  an  extent 
they  are  due  to  our  social  environment.  But  what  we 
feel  and  what  we  will,  depend  largely  on  what  we  be- 
lieve. When  one  realizes  all  this,  he  begins  to  feel 
that  he  himself,  like  the  food  he  eats  and  the  coat  he 
wears,  is  the  product  of  all  the  world. 


LESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  375 

We  see,  then,  that  the  mind  develops  because  the 
conditions  of  development  are  supplied,  and  that  these 
are  the  physical  and  social  enviroimunts.  Teachers 
and  schools,  of  course,  influence  development  as  a  part 
of  the  social  environment  of  their  pupils.  They  in- 
fluence development  by  doing  more  perfectly  that 
which  is  done  to  a  considerable  extent  without  their 
aid.  What  the  teacher  should  do,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  is  to  form  as  clear  a  conception  as  possible  of 
what  he  wishes  to  accomplish,  and  then  put  the  minds 
of  his  pupils  under  such  influences  that  they  may 
develop  in  the  desired  direction.- 

But  partly  because  of  the  influence  of  the  social 
environment,  partly  because  of  the  influence  of 
heredity,  the  pupils  who  come  to  us  to  be  trained  pre- 
sent the  greatest  possible  diversity  in  capacity  and 
character.  To  expect  to  get  the  same  results  from 
treating  them  in  the  same  way  would  be  as  absurd  as 
to  expect  to  reap  the  same  harvest  from  a  barren, 
rocky,  worn-out  soil  as  from  a  fresh,  fertile  prairie, 
both  being  subjected  to  the  same  treatment.  What 
the  child  knows,  what  he  believes,  what  he  likes,  must 
be  taken  into  account  at  every  stage  of  his  education; 
but  what  he  knows,  what  he  believes,  and  what  he 
likes  depend  very  much  on  his  social  environment. 


37^  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

We  ourselves,  as  his  teachers,  influence  him  only  as 
we  become  a  part  of  his  social  environment,  and  we 
become  an  effective  part  of  his  social  environment 
only  through  his  susceptibility  to  influence.     But  this 
very  susceptibility  depends  largely  upon  his  past  social 
environment.     One  child,  delicate,  refined,  sensitive, 
is  wounded  even  by  a  reproving  glance ;  another,  ac- 
customed to  cufis   and  blows  from  his  earliest  child- 
hood, scarcely  comprehends  the  meaning  of  such  mild 
censure.     It  is  not  enough,  then,  for  us  to  form  as 
clear  a  conception  as  possible  of  what  we  wish  to  ac- 
complish, and  rely  on  our  general  knowledge  of  mind 
to  guide  us  in  surrounding  them  with  such  influences 
that  they  may  develop   in  the  desired  direction.     We 
must  study  them  individually — must  try  to  ascertain 
how  their  social  surroundings  have  impressed  them — 
what  gaps  in  the  knowledge  that  children  ordinarily 
have  result  from  the  influences  they  have  been  sub- 
ject to— and  then  try  to  adapt  our  methods  to  them 
individually,  so    that  they  may  grow  in   the    right 
direction. 

But  what  is  the  right  direction  ?  What  shall  we 
aim  at?  Hear  Professor  Huxley:  "That  man,  I  think, 
has  had  a  liberal  education  who  has  been  so  trained  in 
his  youth  that  his  body  is  the  ready  servant  of  his 


I.KSSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  377 

will,  and  does  with  ease  and  pleasure  all  the  work 
that,  as  a  mechanism,  it  is  capable  of;  whose  intellect 
is  a  clear,  cold  logic-engine,  with  all  its  parts  of  equal 
strength,  and  in  smooth  working  order ;  ready,  like  a 
steam  engine,  to  be  turned  to  any  kind  of  work,  and 
spin  the  gossamers  as  well  as  forge  the  anchors  of  the 
mind;  whose  mind  is  stored  with  a  knowledge  of  the 
great  and  fundamental  truths  of  nature,  and  of  the 
laws  of  her  operations;  one  who,  no  stunted  ascetic,  is 
full  of  life  and  fire,  but  whose  passions  are  trained 
to  come  to  heel  by  a  vigorous  will,  the  servant  of  a 
tender  conscience ;  who  has  learned  to  love  all  beauty, 
whether  of  nature  or  art ;  to  hate  all  vileness,  and  to 
respect  others  as  himself." 

With  the  exception  of  a  single  clause,  you  will  note 
that  this  entire  paragraph  is  a  description  of  the  kind 
of  man  that  a  liberal  education  should  seek  to  pro- 
duce. And  no  part  of  the  man  is  left  out.  We  should 
seek  to  train  the  body  so  that  it  may  become  the 
ready  servant  of  the  will,  and  "do  with  ease  and  pleas- 
ure all  the  work  that,  as  a  mechanism,  it  is  capable  of." 
We  should  seek  to  train  the  intellect  so  that  it  may  be- 
come a  "clear,  cold  logic-engine,  with  all  its  parts  of 
equal  strength,  and  in  smooth  working  order."  We 
sliould  seek  to  train  the  feelings  so  that  the  man  may 


37^  >^XESSONS  IN   PSYCHOLOOT. 

be  "full  of  life  and  fire,"  so  that  he  may  "love  all 
beauty,"  and  "hate  all  vileness,"  and  "respect  others 
as  himself."  We  should  seek  to  train  the  will  so  that, 
in  the  language  of  Locke,  our  pupils  may  get  the 
power  to  "cross  their  own  inclinations  and  follow  the 
dictates  of  reason." 

Were  it  not  that  Professor  Huxley  seems  to  imply 
that  equal  stress  should  be  laid  on  all  the  various 
faculties  of  the  mind,  I  should  be  disposed  to  accept 
this  as  a  fairly  clear  statement  of  what  is  meant  by 
symmetrical  development  of  the  mind  and  of  the  man. 
But  I  do  not  believe  that  all  the  faculties  of  the  mind 
are  of  equal  importance.  I  believe,  with  Dr.  Harris, 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  an  over-cultivation  of  the 
mechanical  memory.  The  function  of  the  memory  and 
the  powers  of  observation  is  to  put  before  the  reason 
and  the  higher  faculties  of  the  mind  materials  to  act 
on.  When  they  are  cultivated  beyond  that  point,  the 
mind,  as  a  whole,  is  weakened,  instead  of  strengthened. 
But  would  any  one  say  that  the  reason  can  be  too 
highly  cultivated?  Is  it  possible  for  a  man  to  have 
too  strong  a  will,  or  too  intense  a  feeling  of  the  beaut)'- 
of  what  is  beautiful,  or  the  hatefulness  of  what  is 
hateful? 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  379 

QUESTIONS  ON   THE  TEXT. 

1.  State  and  illustrate  what   you  mean  by  "  the  end  of 
education." 

2.  State  and  illustrate  what  you  mean  by  the  "  physical 
and  social  environments." 

3.  State  and  illustrate  how  one's  environments  affect  his 
beliefs. 

4.  What  does  Huxley  understand  b}-  a  liberal  education  ? 

5.  Do  you  agree  with  him  ? 

6.  What   is   the    difference    between    the    rational    ntid 
the  mechanical  memory  ? 

7.  What  is  the  function  of  the  memory  and  the  observ- 
ing powers  in  our  mental  life? 

SUGGESTIVE  QUESTIONS. 

1.  Give  examples  of  ways  in  which  you  can  modify  your 
methods  to  suit  different  pupils. 

2.  Illustrate  how  memory  can  be  cultivated   at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  reasoning  powers. 

3.  What  can  you  do  to  train  the  will  of  your  pupils .'' 


380  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON   XXXVIII. 

DEVELOPMENT. 

T  T  ZITH  such  a  conception  of  your  aim,  how  should 
^  '        you  proceed  to  get  the  minds  of  your  pupils 
to  reach  it?    You  must  watch  nature,  and  then  try  to 
improve  upon  her.  To  cultivate  the  observing  powers, 
nature  presents  objects;  you  must  do  likewise.    But  if 
you  do  no  more  than  that,  you  will  add  nothing  to  the 
education  of  nature.     Object  lessons  which  consist  in 
telling  the  pupils  what  you  have  observed  do  nothing 
to  cultivate  their  observing  powers.     You  must  get 
them  to  observe  something  which  they  have   not  ob- 
served before ;  you  must  get  them  to  observe  closely, 
carefully,  systematically.     How  are  you  to  do  this? 
You  can  only  do  it  by  imitating  nature.     Nature  sup- 
plies a  motive.     The  incessant  handling  of  this,  and 
looking  at  that,  which  so  fill  up  the  time  of  children, 
result  from  their  interest  in  these  things.     You  must 
interest  them;  but  if  you  add  nothing  to  the  interest 
which    the    objects    naturally    excite,  j'ou  will   add 
nothing  to  the  education  of  nature.    You  must  deepen 
that  interest.     You  must  stimulate  their  curio.sity  by 


tESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  38 1 

asking  them  questions  which  they  can  not  answer 
sbout  objects  which  they  think  they  know  all  about. 
You  must  connect  things  they  are  not  much  interested 
in  with  things  which  they  are  interested  in.  You 
must  give  them  the  pleasure  of  finding  out  things  for 
themselves.  Above  all,  you  must  show  an  interest  in 
their  discoveries — the  more  the  better,  if  you  really 
have  it.  Herbert  Spencer  brings  out  this  point  so 
clearly  and  forcibly  that  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me 
for  quoting  him  at  length:  "What  can  be  more  mani- 
fest than  the  desire  of  children  for  intellectual  sym- 
pathy? Mark  how  the  infant,  sitting  on  your  knee, 
thrusts  into  your  face  the  toy  it  holds,  that  you,  too, 
may  look  at  it.  See,  when  it  makes  a  creak  with  its 
wet  fingers  on  the  table,  how  it  turns  and  looks  at 
you ;  does  it  again  and  again  look  at  you,  thus  saying 
as  clearly  as  it  can :  'Hear  this  new  sound.'  Watch 
how  the  elder  children  come  into  the  room  exclaiming: 
'Mamma,  see  what  a  curious  thing,'  'Mamma,  look  at 
this,'  '  Mamma,  look  at  that,'  and  would  continue  the 
habit  did  not  the  silly  mamma  tell  them  not  to  tease 
her. 

"  Observe  how,  when  out  with  the  nurse-maid,  each 
little  one  runs  up  to  her  with  the  new  flower  it  has 
gathered,  to  show  her  how  pretty  it  is,  and  to  get  her 


382  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

also  to  say  it  is  pretty.  lyisteu  to  the  eager  volubility 
with  which  every  urchin  describes  any  novelty  he  has 
been  to  see,  if  only  he  can  find  some  one  who  will  at- 
tend with  any  interest.  Does  not  the  indication  lie  on 
the  surface?  Is  it  not  clear  that  we  must  conform  our 
course  to  these  intellectual  instincts ;  that  we  must 
first  systematize  the  natural  process ;  that  we  must 
li.sten  to  all  the  child  has  to  tell  us  about  each  object; 
must  induce  it  to  say  everything  it  can  think  of  about 
.such  objects ;  must  occasionally  draw  its  attention  to 
facts  it  has  not  yet  observed,  with  the  view  of  leading 
it  to  notice  them  itself  wherever  they  recur,  and  must 
go  on,  by  and  by,  to  indicate  or  supply  new  series  of 
thinsrs  for  a  like  exhaustive  examination?  See  the 
way  in  vv'hich,  on  this  method,  the  intelligent  mother 
conducts  her  lessons.  Step  by  step  she  familiarizes 
her  little  boy  with  the  names  of  the  simpler  attri- 
butes— hardness,  softness,  color,  taste,  size,  etc. — in 
doing  which  she  finds  him  eagerly  helping  bj'  bringing 
this  to  show  her  that  it  is  red,  and  the  other  to  make 
her  feel  that  it  is  hard,  as  fast  as  she  gives  him  words 
for  these  properties.  Each  additional  property,  as  she 
draws  his  attention  to  it  in  some  fre.sh  thing  which  he 
brings  her,  she  takes  care  to  mention  in  connection 
with  those  he  already  knows,  so  that,  by  the  natural 


LKSSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.OGY.  383 

tendenc}'  to  imitate,  he  may  get  into  the  habit  of  re- 
peating them  one  after  another.  Gradually,  as  there 
occur  cases  in  which  he  omits  to  name  one  or  more  of 
the  properties  he  has  become  acquainted  with,  she  in- 
troduces the  practice  of  asking  him  whether  there  is 
not  something  more  that  he  can  tell  her  about  the 
things  he  has  got.  Probably  he  does  not  understand. 
After  letting  him  puzzle  awhile,  she  tells  him — per- 
haps laughing  a,t  him  a  little  for  his  failure,  A  few 
recurrences  of  this,  and  he  perceives  what  is  to  be 
done. 

"  When  next  she  says  she  knows  something  more 
about  the  object  than  he  has  told  her,  his  pride  is 
roused ;  he  looks  at  it  intently ;  he  thinks  over  all 
that  he  has  heard,  and,  the  problem  being  easy,  pres- 
ently finds  it  out.  He  is  full  of  glee  at  his  success, 
and  she  sympathizes  with  him.  In  common  with 
every  child  he  delights  in  the  discovery  of  his  powers. 
He  wishes  for  more  victories,  and  goes  in  quest  of 
more  things  about  which  to  tell  her.  As  his  faculties 
unfold,  she  adds  quality  after  quality  to  his  list ;  pro- 
gressing from  hardness  and  softness  to  roughness  and 
smoothness  ;  from  color  to  polish  ;  from  simpler  bodies 
to  composite  ones — thus  constantly  complicating  the 
problem  as  he  gains  competence,  constantly  taxing 


384  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

his  attention  and  memory  to  a  greater  extent,  con- 
stantly maintaining  his  interest  by  supplying  him  with 
new  impressions  such  as  his  mind  can  assimilate,  and 
constantly  gratifying  him  by  conquests  over  such 
small  difl&culties  as  he  can  master.  In  doing  this  she 
is  manifestly  but  following  out  that  spontaneous  pro- 
cess that  was  going  on  during  a  still  earlier  period, 
simply  aiding  self-evolution ;  and  is  aiding  it  in  the 
mode  suggested  by  the  boy's  instinctive  behavior  to 
her.  Manifestly,  too,  the  course  she  is  pursuing  is  the 
one  best  calculated  to  establish  a  habit  of  exhaustive 
observation ;  which  is  the  propo.sed  aim  of  these 
lessons.  To  tell  a  child  this  and  to  show  it  the  other, 
is  not  to  teach  it  how  to  observe,  but  to  make  it  a 
mere  recipient  of  another's  observations ;  a  proceeding 
which  weakens  rather  than  strengthens  its  powers  of 
self-instruction — which  deprives  it  of  the  pleasures 
resulting  from  successful  activity — which  presents 
this  all-attractive  knowledge  under  the  guise  of  formal 
tuition — and  which  thus  generates  that  indifference 
and  even  disgust  with  which  these  object  lessons  are 
not  infrequently  regarded.  On  the  other  hand,  to 
pursue  the  course  above  described  is  simply  to  guide 
the  intellect  to  its  appropriate  food ;  to  join  with  the 
intellectual  appetites   their  natural  adjuncts — amour 


IvESSO^JS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  3S5 

propre,  and  the  desire  for  sympathy  ;  to  induce  by  the 
union  of  all  these  an  intensity  of  attention  which 
assures  perceptions  alike  vivid  and  complete ;  and  to 
habituate  the  mind  from  the  beginning  to  that  practice 
of  self-help  which  it  must  ultimately  follow." 

So  it  is  with  every  other  faculty  of  the  mind;  your 
work  consists  in  supplying  the  conditions  of  develop- 
ment—presenting the  material  appropriate  to  the 
faculty,  and  seeing  to  it  that  there  is  a  motive  to 
induce  the  pupil  to  exercise  it. 

But  while  I  agree  with  those  educators  who  think 
that  the  work  of  the  school  should  be  made  pleasur- 
able, both  in  order  that  the  pupil  may  have  the 
strongest  motive  for  studying,  and  in  order  that  the 
teacher  may  have  confidence  that  his  subjects  and 
methods  only  call  for  a  normal  exercise  of  the  powers 
of  his  pupils,  I  think  that  the  doctrine  is  often  ex. 
aggerated.  One  of  the  most  popular  of  our  educa- 
tional papers  some  time  ago  said  that  "  the  true  man- 
agement of  any  recitation  will  make  it  just  as  exciting 
and  just  as  much  fun  as  a  base  ball  game  can  possibly 
be."  I  doubt  it  very  strongly.  I  do  not  believe  it  is 
possible  to  make  the  work  of  school  altogether  agree- 
able. If  it  were  practicable  to  give  each  boy  and  girl 
a  separate  teacher,  as  Locke  recommended,  we  might 

25 


386  I.KSSON.'?  IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

possibly  avoid  requiring  a  pupil  to  study  any  subject 
when  he  did  not  feel  like  it,  or  when  he  preferred  to 
study  something  else.  But  in  a  system  of  class  in- 
struction this  is  impossible.  At  a  given  hour  in  the 
day  your  pupil  must  study  arithmetic.  Perhaps  he 
has  just  been  reciting  his  history  lesson.  If  you  have 
made  the  recitation  interesting,  he  would  like  to  go  on 
with  that.  You  have  told  him  of  certain  books  that 
treat  the  matter  more  fully,  and  he  is  eager  to  look 
them  up  at  once.  But  he  can  not.  He  is  part  of  a 
great  machine,  and  as  the  rest  of  it  moves,  so,  to  a 
certain  extent,  must  he.  Hence  the  more  successful 
you  are  in  interesting  your  pupils,  the  more  impossi- 
ble it  is  to  avoid  an  element  of  irksomeness  in  the 
work  of  the  school. 

Even  if  it  were  possible  to  rely  entirely  on  interest 
as  a  motive,  I  do  not  believe  it  would  be  desirable.  To 
acquire  the  power  to  do  disagreeable  things  is  an 
exceedingly  important  part  of  education.  To  saj' 
nothing  of  more  important  reasons,  unless  we  help  our 
pupils  to  form  the  habit  of  doing  what  is  reasonable, 
whether  it  is  pleasant  or  not,  their  intellectual  de- 
velopment will  certainly  .suffer,  since  no  other  motive 
can  be  relied  on  to  make  the  boy  do  the  work  he  ought 
to  do  at  school,  and  the  man  read  the  books  he  ought 
to  read  in  after  life. 


LB6S0NS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  T,%y 


QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  How  should  we  proceed  to  bring  about  the  develop- 
ment of  a  child  ? 

2.  Illustrate  at  length. 

3.  Compare  our  methods  in  inducing  the  minds  of  our 
pupils  to  act  in  a  certain  definite  way  with  our  methods  in 
getting  nature  to  do  definite  things. 

4.  Use  the  comparison  to  illustrate  the  necessity  of 
studying  children. 

5.  Can  pleasure  alone  be  relied  on  as  a  motive  to  induce 
pupils  to  study  ? 


388  LESSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 


LESSON   XXXIX. 

THE   STUDY   OF   CHILDREN. 

\  LL  the  roads  in  the  Roman  Empire  led  to  the 
-^^-  city  of  Rome."  At  every  turn  and  corner  in 
our  study  of  our  subject,  we  have  seen  that  successful 
teaching  demands  a  close  and  careful  and  systematic 
study  of  children.  At  this  stage  in  the  history  of  the 
world,  men  have  come  to  clearly  realize  the  fact  that, 
no  matter  what  happens  in  the  physical  world,  there 
is  a  cause  for  it.  If  a  watch  stops,  or  a  lock  refuses  to 
act,  we  know  that  there  is  a  cause  for  it,  and  that  a 
patient  study  of  the  facts  of  the  case  may  enable  us  to 
discover  and  remove  it.  That  is  precisely  the  attitude 
which  we  should  take  toward  our  pupils.  If  they 
are  not  interested  in  any  particular  subject,  if  they  are 
inattentive,  if  they  do  not  like  to  go  to  school,  there  is 
a  cause  for  it,  and  it  is  our  business  to  learn  what  it  is. 
Let  us  not  be  guilty  of  the  stupidity  of  saying  that 
some  boys  "naturally"  dislike  school.  That  is  an  easy 
explanation  to  which  lazy  teachers  have  a  great 
tendency  to  resort.  But  it  has  a  painful  likeness  to 
some  of  the  explanations  of  the  Middle  Ages.    "  Mov- 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  389 

ing  bodies  have  a  natural  tendency  to  stop,"  said  the 
scholars  of  that  time.  "  Some  boys  naturally  dislike 
books,"  say  many  of  our  teachers  now.  Precisely  as 
a  more  careful  study  of  the  facts  has  thoroughly 
discredited  the  former  explanation,  so  I  believe  a  care- 
ful study  of  the  facts  will  thoroughly  discredit  the 
latter. 

That  the  importance  of  the  study  of  children  is 
beginning  to  be  generally  recognized  is  one  of  the 
most  encouraging  signs  of  the  times.  In  the  begin- 
ning of  the  study  of  Pedagogy  in  this  country,  it  was 
confined  almost  entirely  to  a  study  of  methods.  Later, 
it  was  seen  that  the  most  fruitful  study  of  Pedagogy 
includes  a  study  of  the  principles  that  underlie 
methods ;  that  in  order  to  know  how  to  deal  with  the 
human  mind,  we  must  know  why  we  deal  with  it  thus 
and  so ;  and  that  to  know  the  why  of  our  procedure, 
we  must  know  the  laws  that  govern  it.  And  little  by 
little  educators  have  come  to  see  that,  after  all,  the  text- 
book on  Psychology,  which  it  is  of  most  importance 
for  teachers  to  study,  is  one  whose  pages  are  ever 
open  before  them — the  minds  of  their  pupils,  and  the 
children  with  whom  they  come  in  contact.  Never 
before  in  the  history  of  the  world  was  the  importance 
of  the  study  of  Psychology  to  teachers  so  generally 


390  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

recognized  as  now.  But  as  suggestive  as  a  knowledge 
of  it  is  to  thoughtful  and  intelligent  teachers,  the  best 
result  to  be  expected  from  it  is  the  development  of 
what  Dr.  Josiah  Royce  calls  the  psychological  spirit* 
— the  habit  of  observing  children — and  of  the  power 
to  turn  that  spirit  to  the  utmost  possible  account.  In 
the  first  two  chapters,  we  considered  the  benefits  of 
the  study  of  Psychology  to  the  teacher.  The  conclu- 
sions there  reached  were  such  as  seemed  evident  from 
the  very  nature  of  the  case,  independently  of  any 
special  conclusions  that  our  study  of  the  mind  would 
enable  us  to  reach.  And  while  I  believe  that  we  shall 
all  agree  that  the  claims  there  made  for  it  are  fully 
borne  out  by  the  facts,  I  think  we  shall  feel  that  if  our 
study  has  made  us  more  interested  in  the  growth  and 
development  of  the  minds  of  children,  more  disposed 
to  study  them,  less  ready  to  dogmatize  about  them, 
more  eager  to  learn  by  actual  observation  what  they 
can  do  and  what  they  can  not  do,  what  they  like  and 
what  they  do  not  like,  the  result  of  our  study  will  be 
of  incomparably  greater  value  than  any  there  in- 
sisted on. 

Because   Psychology  undoubtedly    underlies   the 
science  of  education,  I  have  seen  what  I  can  not  but 

'Educational  Review,  February,  1891. 


I^ESSONS   IN    PSYCHOI.OGY.  39 1 

regard  as  a  disposition  to  over-estimate  its  importance. 
The  opinion  seems  to  be  entertained  in  some  quarters 
that  every  teacher  should  be  a  specialist  in  Psychology. 
If  by  that  is  meant  that  he  must  keep  well  abreast  of 
psychological  research,  or  that  he  should  even  be 
especially  interested  in  current  psychological  literature^ 
I  enter  my  emphatic  dissent.  Many  an  excellent 
teacher  undoubtedly  reproaches  himself  for  his  lack 
of  interest  in  it,  forgetting  that  it  is  as  impossible  for 
every  teacher  to  have  a  special  interest  in  Psychology 
as  it  is  for  them  all  to  have  a  special  interest  in  mathe- 
matics or  chemistry.  By  no  such  criterion  should  a 
teacher  test  his  adaptation  for  his  work.  But  if  a 
teacher  finds  himself  without  interest  in  children,  if 
he  has  no  disposition  to  investigate  the  causes  of  the 
facts  that  thrust  themselves  upon  him  every  day,  if  he 
finds  himself  disposed  to  be  content  with  merely 
verbal  explanations — "stupidity, ""prejudice," "natural 
dislike  of  the  subject,"  "bad  home  surroundings," 
"ugliness,"  etc.,  I  would  respectfully  suggest  that  he 
carefully  consider  whether  he  has  not  mistaken  his 
vocation.  A  specialist  in  Psychology  every  teacher 
should  not  be;  special  and  careful  students  of  the 
minds  of  children  every  teacher  should  be. 

I  do  not,  of  course,  undervalue  the  study  of  psy- 


392  I.ESSONS    IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

chological  literature.  But  I  do  believe  that  the  greatest 
practical  benefit  it  can  render  to  the  teacher  consists  in 
the  help  it  can  give  him  in  his  study  of  children's  minds. 
Two  of  the  leading  institutions  in  the  country  for 
the  training  ofteachers*  lay  great  stress  on  this  study 
of  children.!  Through  the  kindness  of  Professor 
Walter  L.  Hervey.t  Dean  of  the  New  York  College  for 
the  Training  of  Teachers,  I  am  able  to  give  the  entire 
list  of  directions  and  cautions  relating  to  this  subject 
which  he  puts  in  the  hands  of  his  students.§  They 
are  as  follows: 

OBSERVATION   OF   CHILDREN. 
A. — Cautions. 

1 .  Do  not  think  that  only  the  remarkable  sayings 
and  doings  of  precocious  children  are  to  be  observed. 
No  act  of  a  child  is  so  common  or  so  habitual  that  it 
may  not  furnish  a  datum  for  observation,  analysis, 
generalization. 

2.  Be  careful  that  your  report  be  accurate — what 

*The  New  York  College  for  the  Training  of  Teachers 
and  the  State  Normal  School  at  Worcester,  Mass. 

tThis  work  was  begun  by  the  students  of  the  Normal  De- 
partment of  the  Ohio  University  last  year  (1890). 

JI  take  this  occasion  to  acknowledge  ni)'  indebtedness  to 
Professor  Ilervey  for  a  number  of  valuable  suggestions. 

?  Through  a  mistake,  for  which  /  alone  am  responsible, 
this  list  was  incorrectly  printed  in  the  first  edition. 


I.ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  393 

you  see,  not  imagine;    that   it  be  scientific—giving 
name,  age,  date,  and  other  essential  data. 

3.  Never  allow  a  child  to  know  that  he  is  ob- 
served. 

4.  Avoid  drawing  conclusions,  even  in  your  own 
mind,  from  too  few  data.  Darwin  observed  worms 
many  years  before  he  dared  to  write  about  them. 

B. —  Things  to  be  observed. 
I .   Knowledge. 

a.  The  development  of  the  senses.  Which  de- 
velop first?    Which  most  rapidly? 

b.  When  examining  a  new  object,  what  quality 
first  strikes  them — form,  color,  taste,  use? 

c.  When  asking  questions,  what  kind  do  they 
ask? 

d.  How  clear  are  the  mental  pictures  which  they 
form? 

e.  A  child's  curiosity — how  limited  ?  how  satis- 
fied? how  differing  in  degree  in  different  in- 
dividuals, and  in  the  same  individuals  at  dif- 
ferent times  ? 

/.  In  what  line  is  the  greatest  ignorance  dis- 
played? 

g.  The  effect  of  parentage  and  nationality  on  the 
extent  and  direction  of  a  child's  knowledge. 


394  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

h.  How  do  children  gain  ideas  of  beauty  ?     Of 

personal  rights,  property,  etc.? 
i.  When  do  they  get  the  idea  "I  am  I"? 
j.  Study  the  aptitudes  of  children  as  shown  in 

drawing,  sewing,  building,  planning,  etc. 

2.  Attention, 

a.  How  can  you  gain  a  child's  attention?     How 
keep  it  ? 

b.  How  cultivate  attention? 

c.  Under  what  circumstances  have  you  observed 
long-continued  concentration  ? 

3.  Memory. 

a.  What  kind    of   memory    is    most   found  in 
children? 

b.  When  do  they  begin   to  exhibit  striking  dif- 
ferences ? 

c.  What  examples  of  long  memory? 

d.  What  instances  of  logical  memory? 

4.  Imagination. 

a.  Is  imagination  natural  to  children? 

b.  Does  the  power  increase  with  age? 

c.  Note  examples  of  lying,  real  or  apparent,  re- 
sulting from  imagination. 

d.  Note  the  result  of  reading  "Arabian  Nights," 
etc. 


LBSSONS   IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  395 

e.  Study  children's  ideas  of  the  sky,  of  death,  of 
God,  and  spiritual  things. 

5.  Reasoning. 

a.  How  soon  do  children  begin  to  reason? 

b.  Is  there  any  difference  in  reasoning  power  be- 
tween boys  and  girls? 

c.  How  and  why  do  children  classify  ?  Compare 
them  with  older  people  as  to  the  ability  to  ob- 
serve likeness,  difference,  any  relation. 

d.  At  what  age,  and  under  what  circumstances, 
have  you  observed  children  seeking  for  cause, 
effect,  means  to  ends? 

e.  Why  does  a  child  ask  "why"? 

6.  Habit. 

a.  How  soon  do  children  begin  to  form  habits? 

b.  Note  the  formation  of  habits, 
(i)  What  are  formed  with  ease? 
(2)  What  with  difficulty? 

c.  How  are  habits  formed  ? 

d.  How  are  they  broken? 

7.  Feeling.     Likes  and  Dislikes.     Interest. 

a.  Amusements,  plays,    and  games— social   and 
solitary. 

b.  Favorite  stories,  songs,  and  myths. 

c.  Favorite  animals. 


39^  I,ESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

d.  Attachment  to  places — to  persons. 

e.  Aversions,  shyness,  self-consciousness,  pride, 
fear,  anger. 

8.  Will. 

a.  Do  young  children  have  strong  wills? 

b.  When  should  obedience  begin  to  be  required? 
How? 

c.  Is  conscience  innate? 

d.  How  soon  are  there  any  signs  of  conscience? 

e.  Examples  of  confession  of  wrongdoing  brought 
about  by  conscience  alone. 

9.  Ways  of  dealing  with  children. 

a.  When  naughty. 

b.  When  afraid. 

c.  When  shy. 

d.  When  self-conscious. 
<?.  When  injured. 

f.  When  angry. 

10.  Progress  of  children. 

a.  In  the  acquisition  of  knowledge. 

b.  In  gaining  command  over  body,  mind,  self. 

c.  In  overcoming  faults. 

d.  In  the  development  of  will. 

e.  Compare  the  progress   of  children  with  the 


I,ESSON.S    IN    P.iVCIiOLOGV.  397 

progress  of  brutes — e.  g.,  teaching  a  child  and 
a  dog  to  pick  up  a  stick. 
1 1 .   General  observations. 

a.  In  what  respects  do  children  dififer  most? 

b.  What  is  the  influence  of  heredity? 

c.  To  what  extent  do  environment  and  training 
overcome  the  effects  of  heredity? 

QUESTIONS  FOR  CHILDREN — TO  FIND  OUT  THE  CON- 
TENTS  AND   WORKINGS   OF   THEIR   MINDS. 

[The  plan  involves  the  selection  of  some  ten  chil- 
dren, differing  in  ability,  training,  and  school  advan- 
tages, in  groups  of  about  the  same  age.  Each  one  is  to 
be  asked  every  question  alone.  The  answers  are  to 
be  accurately  recorded,  in  uniform  style,  for  filing  and 
comparison.] 

I . — Observatiojt. 

1.  How  many  legs  has  a  fly?   How  many  wings? 

2.  What  can  a  fly  do  that  you  can  not? 

3.  When  a  horse  eats  grass,  does  he  walk  forward 
or  backward  ?    A  cow  ? 

4.  How  many  toes  has  a  horse  ? 

5.  How  many  feet  has  a  snake? 

6.  How  does  a  robin  look  ?  What  kind  of  a  nest 
does  she  build  ? 


?..,. 


398  LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY. 

7.  What  colored  clothes  does  a  policeman  wear? 

8.  How  does  a  dog  cross  a  deep  stream? 
9-  What  color  is  the  sky  ? 

II . — Information . 

1.  Who  is  the  President  of  the  United  States? 

2.  Where  do  potatoes  come  from? 

3.  What  are  your  shoes  made  of?  What  is  leather? 

4.  Where  does  milk  come  from  ? 

5.  Did  you  ever  see  the  surface  of  the  earth  ? 

6.  Why  is  it  dark  at  night  ? 

7.  How  are  the  streets  of  the  city  lighted  at  night? 
III. — Sense  of  beauty. 

1.  What  is  the  prettiest  thing  you  ever  saw? 

2.  Why  do  you  think  it  is  pretty  ? 

3.  What  kind  of  music  do  you  like  best? 

4.  What  are  the  prettiest  flowers  you  know? 

5.  Do  you  like  pictures?    Why? 
IV. — Personal  tastes. 

1 .  What  games  do  you  like  to  play  best  ?    Why  ? 

2.  What  would  you  like  for  Christmas? 

3.  What  little  boy  or  girl  do  you  like  the  best? 
Why? 

4.  Which  do  you  like  better,  city  or  country  ?  Why  ? 

5.  Would  you  rather  ride  in  the  cars  or  inacarriage? 

6.  What  colored  flowers  do  you  like  best? 


LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY.  399 

V. — Imagination . 

1.  If  you  should  go  to  the  moon,  what  would  you 

see? 

2.  What  are  fairies? 

3.  How  does  an  angel  look? 

4.  What  is  lightning  ? 

5.  What  would  you  like  to  do  when  you  grow  up? 

6.  What  do  dogs  think  about  ? 

7.  Can  they  talk  to  each  other  ?    How? 

8.  What  is  Heaven  like? 

9.  How  far  away  is  the  sky? 
VI. — Reasoning  power. 

1 .  Why  does  it  not  snow  in  summer  ? 

2.  Why  does  a  cat  make  so  much  noise  when  she 

walks  ? 

3.  Where  do  the  fishes  go  when  it  rains? 

4.  Why  does  not  a  dog  walk  on  two  legs? 

5.  Are  snow  and  rain  alike? 

6.  Why  does  a  fire  engine  go  so  fast? 

7.  What  is  the  use  of  doors? 

8.  Why  do  not  grown  up  people  go  to  school? 

9.  Do  boot  blacks  like  to  have  it  rain  ? 

10.  Why  does  not  grass  grow  in  winter? 

But  if  you  wish  to  get  the  widest  and  deepest,  and 
at  the  same  time  the  most  helpful  knowledge  of  the 


400  LESSONS    IN    PSYCHOLOGY. 

human  mind,  do  not  confine  yourself  to  the  study  of 
your  own  mind  and  that  of  children,  but  study  the 
mind  of  man  as  it  is  revealed  in  history.  The  sluggish 
Oriental,  the  intellectual  Athenian,  the  superstitious 
Knight  of  the  Middle  Ages,  are  so  many  different 
forms  into  which  our  common  human  nature  has  been 
carved  by  that  marvelous  sculptor — education.  The 
teacher  who  studies  history  from  the  point  of  view  of 
Psychology  will  not  only  find  himself  in  possession  of 
constantly-growing  and  useful  and  inspiring  know- 
ledge of  historical  facts,  but  he  will  find  his  knowledge 
of  the  human  mind  enlarging,  and  his  realization  of 
the  almost  omnipotence  of  education  ever  growing 
more  vivid. 

QUESTIONS  ON  THE  TEXT. 

1.  What  was  the  character  of  the  first  study  of  Pedagogy 
in  this  country  ? 

2.  How  is  it  studied  now  ? 

3.  Mention  some  of  the  cautions  which  you  should  bear 
in  mind  in  studying  children. 

4.  Mention  some  of  the  things  to  be  observed. 

5.  Mention  some  of  the  questions  to  be  asked  in  learning 
the  contents  of  children's  minds. 

6.  Can  you  study  Psychology  in  history  ? 

7.  State  at  length  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  the 
systematic  study  of  children. 

THB   END. 


LESSONS   IN   PSYCHOLOGY.  401 

APPENDIX  A. 

T^HE  case  mentioned  illustrates  a  dangerous  tend- 
ency  in  our  most  highly  organized  schools — the 
tendency  to  forget  the  individual  in  the  multitude. 
In  our  zeal  for  organization,  we  are  in  danger  of 
losing  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  school  exists  for  the 
individual — not  the  individual  for  the  school. 
However  hard  it  may  be  to  draw  the  line  in  prac- 
tice, the  principle  is  perfectly  clear.  Whenever  it 
is  evident  that  the  individual  will  be  injured  by 
conforming  to  the  requirements  that  are  supposed 
to  be  good  for  the  multitude,  he  should  be  excused 
from  them.  Society  has  to  great  an  interest  in  the 
best  possible  education  of  all  its  members  to  justify 
the  sacrifice  of  any  of  them  to  the  demands  of  an 
unattainable  and  therefore  impracticable  ideal. 

APPENDIX  B. 

T  1 /"HEN  it  is  remembered  that  the  inferential 
method  may  base  its  inferences  on  facts  ob- 
tained in  a  variety  of  ways,  it  is  easy  to  see  that 
there  may  be  various  subdivisions  of  it.  When  its 
facts  are  obtained  by  comparing  animals  with 
human  beings,  it  is  called  the  comparative  method; 
when  by  experiment — as  when  we  ascertain  how 
long  a  time  elapses  from  the  contact  of  an  object 
with  any  part  of  the  body  to  the  sensation — it  is 
called  the  experimental  method,  and  so  on. 
26 


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